A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 


Copyright  1909  by  Mitchell  Kennerley 


JUj .  (9J 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

A  novel  by 

CLYDE  FITCH 


Copyright  1891 
by  Mitchell  Kcnncrlcy 


'Publishers'  note 

<J  This — the  only  novel  by  Clyde  Fitch — was  first  published 
in  "Lippincott's  Monthly  Magazine"  for  February,  1891. 
Apart  from  the  autobiographical  interest  in  the  story,  it  is 
significant  to  find  thus  early  in  bis  career  that  the  psychology 
of  Mr.  Fitch  is  essentially  that  of  the  playwright — a  psychol- 
ogy which  he  n>as  later  to  use  with  such  effect  in  his  dramas. 


Clyde  Fitch:   A  Tribute 

THHE  genius  of  friendship  is  given  to  few;  it  is 
the  genial  outpouring  of  the  best  in  per- 
sonality after  passing  through  the  fires  of  reti- 
cence. I  say  "fires,"  for  it  is  the  nature  of  such 
a  character  to  give  and  not  to  withhold  the  best; 
I  say  "reticence,"  for  friendship  comes  only  when 
casual  interest  grows  into  a  desire  to  serve,  when 
knowledge  deepens  into  spiritual  understanding. 

It  was  this  genius  which  dominated  in  Clyde 
Fitch,  the  friend.  One  cannot  determine  the  mean- 
ing of  personality.  I  use  his  own  words  in  a  letter 
where  he  declared  it  to  be  "something  which  is 
what  the  scent  is  to  the  flower,"  and  he  added, 
with  his  usual  good  will  and  bountiful  bestowal  of 
warm  enthusiasm,  "God  bless  the  personal  equa- 
tion !"  His  friendship  meant  sympathetic  response, 
generous  participation,  a  naive  desire  to  share, 
and  a  strong  intentness  to  understand.  He  had 
the  impulsiveness  of  never-dying  youth,  but  be- 
neath it  the  surety  of  calm  judgment. 

One  could  not  be  artificial  in  his  presence;  the 
charm  of  his  friendship  lay  in  its  perfect  ease; 
there  was  no  room  for  embarrassment,  whatever 
the  mission.  Even  in  his  business  relations  there 
was  no  taint  of  success  in  his  manner,  no 

v 


2041567 


CLYDE  FITCH:  A  TRIBUTE 

superiority  of  accomplishment  in  his  speech.  His 
contact  was  magnetic. 

Such  a  personality  stamps  the  little  acts  of  life 
as  well  as  the  vital  moments ;  it  has  the  flexibility 
to  respond  to  the  smallest  detail  of  environment; 
it  never  has  to  be  watchful  or  considerate,  since 
its  nature  is  to  be  so.  In  consequence,  everything 
Clyde  Fitch  did  was  redolent  of  his  spirit.  His 
manhood  was  enriched  by  a  sentiment  of  which 
he  was  not  ashamed.  It  was  peculiarly  excellent 
that  he  was  never  un-loyal  to  himself;  he  never 
disowned  his  early  literary  work.  After  leaving 
Amherst,  he  wrote  "The  Knighting  of  the  Twins," 
a  sheaf  of  child-studies,  exquisitely  tender  in  ap- 
preciation and  delicate  in  humor.  This  love  for 
youth  deepened  in  later  years,  and  in  his  plays 
one  finds  the  elusive  shadow  of  his  "dream  chil- 
dren." 

His  genius  of  friendship  shone  in  the  joy  of 
giving  pleasure  to  others;  he  gauged  you  as  he 
expected  you  to  gauge  him.  This  was  one  of 
the  privileges  of  his  intimacy — that  you  and  he 
were  to  mingle  your  habits  and  not  to  sacrifice 
the  essential  duties  of  the  day.  Nothing  was 
forced  about  his  entertainment;  it  was  not  thrust 
upon  you ;  you  just  felt  that  you  were  being  taken 
care  of.  Here  again  was  evident  that  ease  which 
is  courtesy  gilded  by  grace  and  love — what  I  want 
always  to  remember  as  the  lyric  strain  in  the 
character  of  Clyde  Fitch. 

Emerson  speaks  of  the  radiance  of  personality. 
A  day  with  Clyde  Fitch  was  filled  with  this  indefina- 

vi 


CLYDE  FITCH:  A  TRIBUTE 

ble  quality ;  he  was  at  the  same  time  the  life  of 
his  circle  and  the  gracious  listener.  There  was 
nothing  obtrusive  in  his  vivacity,  there  was  noth- 
ing domineering  in  his  leadership;  he  was  one 
with  you  in  the  spirit  of  a  comrade.  To  be  near 
him  made  you  alert;  you  were  called  to  note  the 
sunlight  on  a  bird's  wing,  to  see  a  blossom  that 
had  burst  into  bloom  since  last  evening,  and  just 
before  retiring  to  drink  in  the  quiet  of  the  stars. 
This  man  of  city  life  never  forgot  the  presence 
of  fundamental  things.  Maeterlinck's  advice  to 
old  age  is :  "Cultivate  a  garden."  But  here  was 
one  in  his  prime  whose  days  were  full  and  busy 
with  the  demands  of  worldly  success,  yet  whose 
spiritual  vision  was  constant. 

The  hours  were  rich  with  incident,  spent  in  the 
presence  of  Clyde  Fitch:  he  had  a  human  way  of 
reading  his  mail;  each  morning  requests  would 
come  in  from  all  quarters — a  young  playwright  to 
be  encouraged,  an  actor  railing  against  fate,  a 
journalist  seeking  an  interview,  columns  of  press 
notices,  and  contracts.  He  was  never  hasty,  but 
always  quick  in  the  despatch  of  business ;  a  slight 
expression  in  a  letter  would  stop  him.  I  have  seen 
him  ask  some  applicant  to  call  simply  because  of 
the  unaffected  humor  in  his  request. 

He  possessed  the  poetic  response  to  all  things 
fair,  even  in  the  minor  walks  of  life.  I  remember 
his  meeting  an  old  countryman  on  the  road,  with  a 
flower  in  his  apology  for  a  buttonhole.  A  thrill 
of  enthusiasm  shot  through  him.  You  may  say 
the  instinct  of  the  dramatist  sensed  the  domestic 
vii 


CLYDE  FITCH:  A  TRIBUTE 

comedy  here,  but  in  his  exclamation  lay  part  of 
his  wholesome  philosophy.  "Behind  that  flower," 
he  said,  "is  love." 

In  the  day's  work  he  gave  special  care  to  the 
animals  around  him ;  his  boyish  energy  never  tired 
training  his  pet  dog  "in  the  social  amenities  of 
life,"  as  he  would  describe  it.  Even  here  his 
concern  was  human.  I  once  mentioned  to  him 
Maeterlinck's  essay  in  which  he  claimed  that  the 
dog  was  the  only  living  creature  that  had  found 
its  God.  He  had  not  read  this,  but  the  flash  of 
philosophy  took  hold  of  him  throughout  the  day. 

I  simply  hint  at  the  personality  of  the  man; 
now  that  he  is  gone,  his  presence  is  immanent  be- 
cause of  the  radiance  he  has  left  behind.  This 
constituted  the  rare  quality  of  Clyde  Fitch  as  a 
friend.  In  his  last  illness  he  was  attended  by  a 
friend ;  his  eyes  closed  amidst  friends  he  was  making 
through  the  quiet  patience  and  calm  acceptance 
born  of  something  deeper  than  character  end  be- 
yond the  mere  formal  expression  of  religion.  The 
nuns  of  Chalons-sur-Marne,  deprived  of  the  power 
of  calling  a  Protestant  minister  to  his  side,  knew 
that  his  own  genius  of  friendship  was  sufficient 
consecration  for  his  spirit.  The  immortal  glory 
of  character  is  the  immortality  of  earthly  love. 
If  I  write  with  sentiment,  it  is  because  his  genius 
made  me  know  the  value  of  friendship. 

M.  J.  M. 

NEW  YORK,  October,  1909. 


VIII 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 


"People  of  artistic  instincts  are  being  ruined  by  bric-a- 
brac,  I  think ;  and  that  is  why  no  stronger  work  is  done." 
— WM  D'URBAN,  in  a  private  letter. 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

CHAPTER  I 

IT  was  late  in  an  October  afternoon.  An 
uncertain  light  came  through  two  west- 
ern windows  and  fell  softly  here  and  there 
about  the  room  in  suggestive  sympathy  with 
the  mood  of  a  girl  who  stood  before  an  open 
piano  in  the  farther  end. 

She  was  of  medium  height  and  slender. 
Her  hair  was  a  pale  brown,  curled  wavingly 
in  front  and  knotted  loosely  behind.  Her 
complexion  was  somewhat  that  of  a  brunette, 
but  lacked  the  high  color  which  often  blazes 
in  a  brunette's  cheeks.  Her  features  were 
nicely  cut.  Her  mouth  was  nervous,  not 
small,  but  lovely.  Her  eyes  were  large,  blue, 
glorious.  They  were  capable  of  expressing 

i 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

every  emotion  in  an  intensified  degree.  They 
were,  indeed,  the  windows  of  her  soul,  win- 
dows which  her  temperament  had  painted 
with  the  myriad  hues  of  her  beauty  and 
passion. 

She  stood  straight  and  graceful.  A  for- 
gotten music-rack  was  by  her  side,  and  a 
violin  rested  close  beneath  her  chin.  A  thin, 
beautiful  hand,  with  sinuous  fingers,  which 
seemed  to  tremble  with  a  soul  of  their  own 
shut  in  them,  held  the  bow,  and  drew  it  back 
and  forth  in  obedience  to  the  musical  vision 
of  the  player.  Her  head  was  bent  caress- 
ingly over  the  violin,  as  one  sees  the  young 
mother's  o'er  her  babe  in  the  old  paintings. 
But  her  eyes  were  lifted  with  that  look  of 
seeing  the  unseeable  which  comes  into  some 
people's  eyes.  There  was  a  half-sad  smile 
upon  her  lips ;  and  a  daring  ray  of  the  fast- 
setting  sun  moved  lightly,  glorifyingly, 
across  her  hair. 

A  door  was  opened  suddenly  with  some 

2 


CLYDE   FITCH 

feminine  commotion,  and  a  tall,  fashionably- 
dressed,  well-preserved  woman  entered.  The 
girl  stopped  playing,  and  turned  irritably. 
"Oh,  mamma,"  she  said,  smiling  in  a  half- 
pettish  way,  "did  you  ever  come  in  apropos- 

ly?" 

"I'm  sorry,  Madge,  to  be  always  putting 
you  out,  but  I  don't  see  how  I  can  help  it. 
You  needn't  have  stopped  playing."  Madge 
raised  her  eyebrows.  "Besides,  I'm  not  in- 
terrupting you  for  myself." 

Mrs.  Synnett  was  never  known  to  have 
acknowledged  doing  anything  for  her  own 
sake. 

"I  only  came  in,"  she  continued,  looking 
deprecatingly  at  her  daughter,  "to  tell  you 
we  were  going  to  have  company  for  dinner. 
I  thought  you  would  like  to  know  in  time  to 
dress." 

"Company!  I  shall  not  come  down,  then. 
I'm  sorry." 

"Now,  Madge,  why  will  you  be  so  dis- 
3 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

obliging?  I've  asked  the  company  for  you 
and  Rita.  I  really  am  discouraged.  Won't 
you  come  when  I  ask  you  to?" 

"No,  mamma  dear,  I  shall  not.  You  know 
how  I  hate  it — strange  people  to  dinner, 
when  we  can't  afford  to  entertain  properly: 
I  don't  like  to  see  people  starve  before  my 
very  eyes.  Why  do  you  keep  on  asking 
them?  You  need  not  count  upon  me.  Be- 
sides, to-night  I'm  not  in  the  mood." 

She  took  up  her  violin  and  commenced 
to  play  an  exercise  she  had  been  practicing. 

"You'll  ruin  your  eyes,"  said  her  mother, 
leaving  the  room  only  half  vanquished. 

Madge  glanced  after  her  with  a  mingled 
look  of  love  and  criticism.  A  string  snapped, 
and  she  laid  the  violin  down,  breaking  the 
lily  by  her  side  from  off  its  stem  with  her 
elbow. 

"Poor  mamma,  dear  mamma,"  she  mur- 
mured to  herself,  "she  does  not  understand 
things ;  she  never  will.  I  must  find  Rita." 

4 


CLYDE   FITCH 

She  met  her  sister  in  the  hall. 

"Mamma's  asked  company  to  dinner,"  she 
said,  "and  we'll  have  to  dress." 

"Oh,  Madge,  who  is  it?" 

"I  don't  know.  I  told  mamma  I  wouldn't 
come  downstairs;  but  I  suppose  I  must." 

"Yes,  of  course;  but  I  wish  she  hadn't 
asked  any  one.  I  don't  feel  a  bit  like  com- 
pany, either." 

The  two  girls  went  upstairs  to  their  rooms 
together.  Rita  hesitated  at  Madge's  door, 
as  if  she  wanted  to  say  something;  finally 
she  ventured.  She  stepped  into  the  room 
and  put  her  arms  around  her  sister's  neck 
from  behind  and  bent  her  head  back. 

"Madge,"  she  said,  "tell  me,  are  you  going 
to  marry  Douglas  Weldon?" 

"I  don't  know,"  Madge  answered,  look- 
ing her  straight  in  the  face. 

And  then  Rita  left  her  and  went  to  her 
own  room,  puzzled. 

When  they  came  into  the  drawing-room 
5 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

they  saw  their  mother  talking  to  a  strange 
gentleman  at  the  farther  end. 

"It's  a  man,  and  he  is  rather  young," 
whispered  Rita. 

"Some  one  we're  to  angle  for,  probably," 
answered  Madge,  who  had  a  great  scorn  for 
her  mother's  innocent  little  match-making 
maneuvers.  "I  shall  bait  my  hook  with  gall 
and  vinegar." 

Mrs.  Synnett  came  forward  and  present- 
ed her  guest.  Madge  bowed  and  passed  by 
him  to  the  piano,  where  she  looked  over  some 
of  the  music.  Rita  was  more  gracious,  and 
started  a  conversation:  this  was  her  especial 
duty  in  the  family,  and  one  her  certain  charm 
of  manner — the  ability  to  feel  an  interest  in 
everything  through  her  sympathy  with  peo- 
ple in  general — lent  itself  to  with  signal 
success. 

"Are  you  the  Mr.  Farnsworth?  I  am 
reading  your  book,  if  you  are,  and  I'm  not 

6 


CLYDE   FITCH 

at  all  sure  how  it  will  end.  I'm  delighted  to 
meet  you." 

He  was  a  rather  tall,  delicately-featured 
man,  with  sympathetic  eyes,  a  small  mous- 
tache, and  wavy  blond  hair  which  was  not 
close-cropped.  He  was  conventionally 
dressed,  but  with  an  indescribable  sugges- 
tion of  the  artistic  temperament,  which 
hinted  rebellion  against  the  narrow  code  of 
a  man's  costume.  Perhaps  this  showed  it- 
self in  the  color  of  his  cravat,  the  composi- 
tion of  his  boutonniere,  or  the  form  of  his 
scarf-pin.  He  was  dignified,  yet  gesticu- 
lated while  he  talked,  and  used  his  hands 
gracefully  and  more  freely  than  the  ordinary 
modern  man. 

His  face  lighted  with  pleasure  at  his  new 
acquaintance's  unaffected  compliment. 

"I  hope  the  end  won't  disappoint  you," 
he  said. 

"Does  it  end  pleasantly?"  she  asked,  and 
7 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

then  added  quickly:  "Don't  tell  me;  I'd 
rather  not  know  till  I  come  to  it." 

"Well,"  he  replied,  "it  ends  naturally,  at 
any  rate."  % 

No  one  spoke  for  a  moment.  Mrs.  Syn- 
nett  was  fluttering  uneasily  about,  like  an 
indecisive  butterfly. 

"How  I  wish  I  could  write  a  novel !"  Rita 
began.  "I  tried  to  several  times,  but  I  in- 
variably fell  in  love  with  my  villains  instead 
of  my  heroes,  and  my  attempts  were  very 
bad.  How  do  you  write  books?  Does  the 
story  come  to  you  all  at  once,  or  do  you 
invent  and  change  as  you  go  along?" 

"I  don't  suppose,"  suggested  Madge, 
breaking  into  the  conversation,  "that  Mr. 
Farnsworth  has  met  a  single  girl  who  has 
not  asked  him  that  question.  Rita,  why 
didn't  you  try  to  think  of  something 
original?" 

Before  any  one  could  answer,  a  maid 
stepped  into  the  room  and  announced— 


CLYDE   FITCH 

"Mr.  Weldon." 

Madge  greeted  the  arrival  with  that  per- 
fectly unaffected  smile  a  girl  has  for  the 
man  she  feels  sure  of.  He  seemed  very  much 
at  home,  and  called  the  two  younger  women 
by  their  first  names.  He  was  a  splendid 
big  fellow,  broad-chested,  broad-shouldered, 
broad-minded,  good-looking,  level-headed, 
tender-hearted.  He  had  still  another  quali- 
ty, which  wron  general  approval — one  which 
Mrs.  Synnett  did  not  forget.  She  told  her 
daughters,  when  she  first  knew  him,  she  had 
met  a  Mr.  Weldon,  who  was  so  nice,  and  so 
rich. 

Mrs.  Synnett  led  the  way  almost  imme- 
diately into  the  dining-room  with  her  usual 
apologies  for  informality,  no  other  guests, 
and  the  various  other  things  that  occurred 
to  her  at  the  moment,  the  lack  of  any  of 
which  seemed  in  no  wise  to  affect  the  peace 
or  comfort  of  her  guests. 

The  Synnetts  lived  in  one  of  those  old 
9 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

Dutch  houses  one  so  frequently  sees  in  New 
York,  in  West  Twenty-second  Street,  be- 
tween Eighth  and  Ninth  Avenues.  That  it 
was  between  these  avenues,  and  not  between 
Fifth  and  Sixth,  was  one  of  Mrs.  Synnett's 
severest  trials  in  life.  Madge  used  to  say 
Sixth  Avenue  was  her  mother's  horizon  line, 
and  they  lived  on  the  wrong  side  of  it.  When 
Mr.  Synnett  died,  long  before  the  girls  were 
grown,  he  left  his  widow  this  house,  which 
his  grandfather  had  built,  and  his  life  insur- 
ance. They  lived  in  the  former,  and  tried 
to  live  on  the  latter,  and  did  very  well,  every- 
thing considered.  They  had  the  entree  into 
the  "best  society"  in  town,  they  were  met 
at  exclusive  dinner-tables  always  once  or 
twice  every  winter,  and  appeared  at  a  few 
of  the  Patriarchs  and  Assemblies  in  the 
course  of  the  season;  but  their  very  limited 
income  drew  them  somewhat  out  of  the  social 
swim.  Madge  said  she  grew  tired  herself 
of  alternating  two  ball-dresses,  only  one  of 

10 


CLYDE   FITCH 

which  was  new,  a  whole  year,  even  if  other 
people  weren't  bored  to  death  seeing  her. 
They  all  had  too  much  self-respect  to  take 
advantage  of  the  wealth  of  those  people  who 
are  willing  to  make  stepping-stones  of  poor 
aristocrats  to  mount  into  a  "higher  set"  than 
the  one  they  belong  to.  Consequently  their 
entertaining  amounted  to  little  more  than 
an  occasional  small-and-early,  which  the 
girls  called  "cheap-and-hungry,"  and  a  "day 
at  home."  This  was  not  enough  for  society; 
so  the  Synnetts  had  drifted  into  a  somewhat 
bohemian  clique,  which  Madge  and  Rita, 
if  not  their  mother,  found  more  satisfactory. 
Mr.  Synnett,  who  had  been  a  well-known 
amateur  musician,  had  many  friends  who 
were  especially  interested  in  Madge's  music, 
for  it  had  the  fire  of  genius  in  it.  Bohemia 
— and  Bohemia  is  a  good  judge — expected 
great  things  of  her.  Rita  they  loved,  but  it 
was  not  every  one  who  could  understand  her 
extraordinary  charm  of  being  always  simply 

ii 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

and  unaffectedly  delightful.  She  was  per- 
fectly good,  Madge  said,  without  being 
"soft" — which  meant  good  without  trying 
to  be.  Mrs.  Synnett  was  decorative,  and  she 
amused  people.  Bohemia  flocked  to  their 
"days,"  sipped  their  good  Bohea,  and  nib- 
bled their  sugary  biscuits. 

Farnsworth  talked  to  Rita  during  most 
of  the  dinner,  drawing  Mrs.  Synnett  and  the 
others  occasionally  into  the  conversation,  in 
a  way  that  showed  him  a  good  diner-out  and 
an  easy  guest — a  most  comfortable  thing  to 
have  at  one's  table.  Rita,  as  she  sat  there, 
made  him  long  to  be  an  artist,  just  to  be 
able  to  paint  her.  She  had  masses  of  bur- 
nished brown  hair,  which  was  caught  up  on 
the  top  of  her  head  with  an  ivory  comb.  Her 
features  were  sufficiently  irregular  to  license 
a  difference  of  opinion  as  to  whether  she 
were  beautiful  or  not;  but  her  eyes  were  as 
lovely  as  her  sister's,  though  different,  and 
full  of  an  ever-varying  expression,  and  her 

12 


CLYDE   FITCH 

well-shaped  head  was  poised  upon  a  perfect 
neck  and  rounded  white  shoulders. 

The  conversation  at  the  table  was  only 
now  and  then  general.  Madge  and  Weldon 
appeared  to  have  acquired  the  ability  of  re- 
tiring verbally  from  the  rest  of  the  company, 
which  did  not,  however,  seem  to  offend  any 
one,  so  Mrs.  Synnett  did  not  interfere:  she 
was  exceedingly  anxious  that  it  should  make 
a  match.  She  loved  both  of  her  daughters, 
and  had  really  devoted  her  life  to  them, 
though  not  altogether  with  success,  because 
she  did  not  understand  her  children.  Neither 
of  them  was  at  all  like  her.  Madge  she  wor- 
shiped, and  stood  somewhat  in  awe  of,  for 
she  had  never  been  able  to  influence  her  in 
the  least.  She  knew  she  was  a  girl  capable 
of  great  passions,  and  a  creature  of  strong 
impulses.  Although  failing  in  sympathy,  she 
recognized  the  fact  of  her  child's  intense 
nature,  with  its  strange  changes  and  wealth 
of  sentiment,  and  trembled  for  her  future. 

13 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

She  knew  the  dangers  of  a  morbidly  artistic 
temperament,  and  she  knew  this  danger  was 
so  much  the  greater  when  the  temperament 
was  not  held  in  control,  but  was  pandered 
to  as  Madge's  was.  She  thought  with 
Douglas  Weldon  this  future  would  be  safe. 

Eventually,  in  the  course  of  the  dinner, 
Mrs.  Synnett  allowed  Farnsworth  to  draw 
her  into  the  conversation  again,  and  re- 
mained there.  She  was  a  good  talker,  and 
a  clever  woman  in  her  way.  That  is,  she 
knew  a  good  deal  about  music,  and  some- 
thing about  pictures,  and  could  impress  most 
people  with  the  belief  that  she  knew  more 
than  she  did  about  everything.  She  could 
discuss  a  book  whether  she  had  read  it  or 
not.  She  had  not  read  Mr.  Farnsworth's. 

"I  hope  we're  to  have  another  novel  soon," 
she  said. 

"Only  wait  till  I  have  read  this  one,"  in- 
terpolated Rita  gaily. 

"Why,  my  dear,  haven't  you  finished  it 


CLYDE   FITCH 

yet?  How  could  you  leave  it  till  you  had?" 
She  turned  again  to  the  young  author: 
"How  well  you  understand  women!" 

"Isn't  mamma  clever!"  whispered  Madge. 
"She's  not  read  a  chapter  in  his  book." 

"What!  Oh,  eh,  yes,"  said  Weldon,  who 
had  not  heard  what  the  others  were  talking 
about,  but  had  been  paying  attention  solely 
to  Madge. 

Farnsworth  was  flattered.  It  always 
pleases  a  man  to  tell  him  he  knows  women. 
It's  like  complimenting  some  people  on  their 
appreciation  of  Botticelli  or  their  under- 
standing of  Wagner. 

"Thank  you,  Mrs.  Synnett,"  he  said ;  "you 
know  how  to  praise.  You  praise  sympathet- 
ically." He  never  dreamed  the  woman  had 
not  read  his  book.  "Most  people  praise  too 
collectively,"  he  added,  turning  to  Miss 
Synnett. 

"Yes,  mamma  is  a  very  good  critic," 
vouched  Rita.  It  was  true,  too,  as  far  as 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

superficial  criticism  goes — which  is  quite  far 
enough  in  some  books. 

"I  don't  know  about  that,"  said  Mrs.  Syn- 
nett;  "but,  since  circumstances " 

"Over  which  we  have  no  control,"  sug- 
gested Madge. 

"Madge,  you're  rude,"  Mrs.  Synnett 
smilingly  rebuked,  and  continued — "since 
circumstances  have  obliged  me  to  give  up, 
to  a  great  degree,  a  social  life,  I've  devoted 
much  of  my  time  to  books  and  music  and 
art,  and  I  ought  to  know  something  about 
them,  unless  I  am  hopelessly  stupid." 

"The  person  who  dared  to  call  mamma 
stupid,"  said  Madge,  fairly  in  the  conversa- 
tion now,  as  the  finger-bowls  were  being 
placed  about,  "would  do  so  in  peril  of  his 
life,  while  knives  are  still  used  for  fruit,  and 
the  memory  of  Lady  Macbeth  lives." 

"Don't  you  think  Madge  would  make  a 
good  Lady  Macbeth?"  laughed  Rita.  "You 
know  she  always  believed  it  was  the  tiger, 

16 


CLYDE   FITCH 

and  not  the  lady,  that  the  barbaric  princess 
chose." 

"And  Rita,"  smiled  Madge,  "would,  I  am 
sure,  have  given  her  lover  the  lady  and 
chosen  the  tiger  for  herself." 

"Our  family  is  a  mutual  admiration 
society,"  said  Mrs.  Synnett. 

"I  should  like  to  apply  for  admission  to 
the  society,"  said  Farnsworth,  with  some 
masculine  coquetry  in  a  look  toward  Rita. 

"We'll  adopt  you,"  she  said,  "for  a 
brother.  Won't  we,  Madge?" 

But  Madge  pretended  not  to  hear.  "He's 
a  flirt,"  she  thought.  "I  hate  him."  Madge's 
conclusions  were  always  instantaneous,  but 
they  were  not  like  the  laws  of  the  Medes 
and  Persians;  and,  as  with  instantaneous 
photography,  the  negative  could  be  so  al- 
tered in  her  mental  developing-room  that 
you  would  not  recognize  the  final  impression 
from  the  first  proof. 

The  men  refused  to  smoke,  and  all  four 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

drifted  into  the  music-room  together.  Rita 
seated  herself  on  the  piano-stool  with  the 
readiness  of  one  who  does  not  play,  and 
Madge  and  Weldon  slipped  out  of  an  open 
window  for  a  stroll  in  the  little  garden. 
Mrs.  Synnett  followed  the  maid  with  the 
coffee-cups  out  of  the  room.  Farnsworth 
stood  leaning  against  the  piano.  He  spoke 
to  Rita: 

"Who  is  Mr.  Weldon?" 

"Quite  an  old  friend  of  ours.  He  is  a 
young  lawyer.  I  don't  think  he  is  exactly 
brilliant,  but  he  is  one  of  those  splendid 
workers  who  always  succeed,  don't  you 
know?  Mamma  is  very  fond  of  him." 

When  a  girl  feels  obliged  to  account  for 
the  status  of  a  young  man  in  the  family,  it 
always  turns  out  to  be  a  sentiment  on  the 
part  of  her  mother. 

"Yes,  I've  heard  of  him  from  some  friends 
of  mine  downtown.  We  were  at  the  same 
college  together;  but  I  did  not  know  him." 


CLYDE   FITCH 

"Are  you  fond  of  music?"  asked  Rita, 
somewhat  irrelevantly.  "We  all  are,  and 
Madge  plays  so  well;  you  must  hear  her." 

"I  care  for  music  almost  more  than  for 
my  writing.  I  only  gave  up  hopes  of  doing 
something  in  it  because  I  felt  I  could  not 
divide  my  energies  and  do  justice  to  both 
ends.  Bigamy  is  not  successful  often  with 
the  Muses:  even  Rossetti  might  have  loved 
Art  more  if  he  had  not  wedded  Poetry  as 
well.  Writing  seemed  to  me  to  be  the  surer 
and  the  more  remunerative  of  my  two  am- 
bitions :  one  has  to  take  so  many  things  into 
consideration,  you  know."  And  he  smilingly 
slurred  over  his  necessity. 

Mrs.  Synnett  joined  them,  and  Madge 
and  Weldon  came  back  from  their  short 
walk. 

"Madge,  play  us  something,"  begged  her 
mother. 

"No,  mamma,  I  can't  to-night." 

"Do,  Madge,  won't  you?"  pleaded  Rita. 
19 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

And  all  except  Weldon  tried  to  persuade 
her.  She  turned  and  looked  them  all  straight 
in  the  face,  with  an  odd  little  glance. 

"Don't  ask  me,"  she  said,  "for  I  won't; 
and  I'm  sorry  to  be  disobliging."  And  she 
sat  down  in  the  window-seat,  where  Weldon 
joined  her. 

Mrs.  Synnett  apologized  for  her:  it  was 
something  Mrs.  Synnett  was  quite  used  to 
doing.  She  said  Madge  had  been  practicing 
all  the  afternoon,  and  they  ought  not  to 
have  asked  her. 

While  she  talked,  Farnsworth  watched 
the  girl  over  in  the  window-seat.  She  cer- 
tainly was  disagreeable,  he  thought,  but 
nevertheless  she  attracted  him.  "Not  a  nice 
disposition,"  he  said  to  himself,  "but  I'd 
wager  anything  on  her  playing.  I  wish  she 
would  play  now;  but  she  won't,  I  can  see 
that.  There's  something  strange  about  her. 
Perhaps  it's  her  beauty,  which  is  an  un- 
usual type.  I  think  the  girl  will  have  a 
20 


CLYDE   FITCH 

history.  I  shall  watch  and  see."  He  an- 
swered Mrs.  Synnett  in  the  affirmative,  and 
she  rattled  on.  His  thoughts  went  back  to 
the  window-seat.  "She'll  make  that  man 
miserable  if  she  marries  him ;  and  I  presume 
she  will:  the  mother  will  manage  that.  He 
will  bore  her,  although  he  loves  her,  proba- 
bly, like  a  dog,  but  his  nature  will  never  be 
able  to  supplement  hers." 

"Would  you  write  in  our  copy  of  your 
book,"  Mrs.  Synnett  asked,  "if  I  sent  for 
it?  We  are  not  autograph-fiends,  but  I 
think  that  when  one  knows  the  author  it's 
interesting  to  have  his  writing  in  one's  book. 
Signatures  of  people  I  care  about  have  al- 
ways interested  me." 

"Thanks,"  answered  Farnsworth;  "I  will 
write  with  pleasure;  but  I'm  going  to  take 
the  liberty  of  sending  Miss  Synnett  a  copy 
to-morrow,  to  persuade  her  to  finish  the 
story,  and  I  shall  write  in  that." 

Mrs.  Synnett  looked  pleased,  and  mur- 

21 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

mured  something  about  that  doing  as  well. 
The  fact  was,  she  was  somewhat  relieved: 
she  might  have  had  an  awkward  moment. 
The  maid  had  brought  the  book,  and  she 
held  it  in  her  hand,  but  she  had  seen  that 
the  leaves  of  the  last  half  had  not  been  cut. 

Rita  was  delighted,  and  told  him  so  frank- 
ly, as  he  started  to  say  his  adieux. 

"How  do  you  decide  on  a  denouement?" 
she  asked. 

"I  don't  decide,"  he  replied:  "they  are 
inevitable." 

"Come  in  informally  whenever  you  feel 
like  it,"  said  Mrs.  Synnett,  cordially;  "and 
we  are  always  at  home  Sunday  evening." 

As  he  left  the  house  he  was  thinking  of 
Rita.  "She  is  like  David's  picture  of 
Recamier,"  he  said  half  aloud,  "only  nicer." 

In  the  drawing-room,  after  the  door 
closed,  Madge  was  the  first  to  speak. 

"He's  perfectly  horrid,"  she  said.  "I  don't 
ever  wish  to  see  him  again." 
22 


CLYDE   FITCH 

"Why,  Madge,"  remonstrated  Rita,  "how 
dare  you  say  so?  I  think  he's  delightful, 
and  a  genius.  You  can't  judge;  for  you've 
been  awfully  rude  all  the  evening.  I  won- 
der what  he  thought  of  you?" 

Madge  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"I  can't  imagine,"  she  said.  "He  is  sure 
that  I  am  quite  the  most  disagreeable  girl 
he  has  ever  met,  partly  because  I  wouldn't 
flirt  with  him,  and  partly  because  I  was  so 
frightfully  impolite.  And  he  is  sure  also 
that  I  cannot  play  a  bit.  He  looked  so 
bored  when  you  asked  me  to." 

Weldon  stood  by  with  his  hands  in  his 
pockets,  and  said  nothing.  He  never  criti- 
cized Madge,  even  in  his  thoughts.  Besides, 
she  had  devoted  her  whole  evening  to  him, 
and  he  had  been  happy  and  was  content. 
He  felt  they  were  ready  for  him  to  go:  so 
he  said  good-night,  and  strolled  out  down 
the  street  with  a  cigar  Madge  lit  for  him 
in  the  hall. 

23 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

"I'm  going  to  bed,"  said  Mrs.  Synnett, 
putting  out  the  lamps.  "I'm  tired.  How 
nice  Mr.  Farnsworth  is !  I  wonder  if  he  has 
made  much  money  out  of  his  book?" 

"It  isn't  likely,"  Madge  answered. 
"Leave  one  lamp:  I'm  going  to  stay  up 
awhile  longer." 

"To  play?" 

"Yes."  ' 

Mrs.  Synnett  looked  a  mild  rebuke,  and 
then  followed  Rita  out  of  the  room.  Rita 
took  Farnsworth's  book  upstairs  with  her, 
and  finished  it  before  she  went  to  bed.  It 
ended  sadly.  She  remembered  Mr.  Farns- 
worth had  said  the  ending  was  inevitable. 
She  arranged  it  so  there  was  general  happi- 
ness, and  wondered  why  he  could  not  have 
ended  it  that  way.  She  did  not  see  any  rea- 
son why  he  could  not  have  done  so.  She  did 
not  understand  this  inevitability  of  its  end- 
ing the  author's  way.  She  wondered  if  he 
were  really  right,  and,  still  questioning,  she 
24 


CLYDE   FITCH 

fell  asleep.  So  we  often  try  to  resist  the 
denouement  of  our  lives,  failing  to  under- 
stand the  climax  that  the  Author  of  our 
story  has  given  us.  So  we  too  question,  and 
fall  asleep,  sometimes,  doubting  if  He  is 
right. 

Madge,  when  she  was  left  alone,  replaced 
the  broken  string  of  her  violin,  and  then  laid 
it  down  on  the  piano.  She  saw  the  lily  she 
had  accidentally  broken  from  the  stem  in 
the  afternoon,  lying  crushed  on  the  comer 
where  Farnsworth  had  leaned  his  arm.  She 
placed  the  poor  bruised  flower  in  the  water 
in  the  top  of  the  vase;  then  she  sank  down 
on  the  stool,  dropping  her  elbows  gently  on 
the  piano-keys  with  a  soft  discord.  She 
was  thinking  hard  on  a  subject  which  had 
occupied  her  mind  more  or  less  for  some 
time — lately,  however,  more — trying  to  come 
to  a  decision  on  that  one  question  over  which 
nearly  every  woman  that  has  lived  has  hesi- 
tated some  time  or  other  in  her  life.  And 
25 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

Madge's  decision  involved  more  than  the 
typical  one,  perhaps.  Now,  as  she  leaned, 
her  face  in  her  hands,  over  the  keyboard,  she 
asked  herself  again,  for  the  hundredth  time, 
should  she  marry  Douglas  Weldon? 

She  loved  him;  she  loved  no  one  any  bet- 
ter; she  could  not  at  that  moment  think  of 
any  one  she  loved  so  much.  But  once  she 
had  heard  a  man  play  on  the  violin  who  had 
influenced  her  in  a  different  and  a  wonderful 
way — who  had  caused  her  to  forget  herself 
in  thinking  of  him.  She  thought  of  Weldon, 
on  the  contrary,  only  when  she  remembered 
herself.  She  had  first  idealized  and  then 
idolized  this  musician  with  whom  she  blindly 
felt  in  such  close  sympathy.  She  went  to 
every  concert  at  which  he  played.  He  ab- 
sorbed her  days,  and  nights  she  dreamed  of 
him,  sleeping  with  his  photograph,  which 
she  had  purchased  "for  a  friend"  at  the  shop 
on  Broadway,  under  her  pillow.  She  fed 
on  him  in  her  mind  and  heart,  until  all  her 
26 


CLYDE   FITCH 

strength  was  consumed.  She  never  met  him, 
never  spoke  to  him,  and  finally  he  returned 
to  the  foreign  country  he  came  from.  Since, 
she  had  not  even  heard  of  him.  Heavens! 
how  long  ago  that  seemed!  It  was  eight 
years.  She  recalled  it  now,  because  she  felt 
perhaps  there  was  a  possibility  of  her  loving 
that  way  again  some  one  she  might  know. 
She  could  never,  never  love  Douglas  so. 
She  smiled  as  she  thought  to  herself  that 
Weldon  would  not  like  her  to.  He  did  not 
understand  jealousy,  and  so  completely  ab- 
sorbing a  passion  would  interfere  with  his 
law. 

Should  she  marry  him,  then,  or  should  she 
wait  for  a  man  to  come  actually  into  her  lif e, 
a  man  like  that  other  who  had  only  passed 
by,  out  of  reach?  Such  a  one  might  never 
come,  and,  if  he  did,  would  she  be  happy  with 
him?  (She  changed  her  position,  making 
another  discord  on  the  piano,  which  jarred 
upon  her8  and  wrinkled  her  forehead.)  Were 
•  27 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

two  intense  natures  immeasurably  sympa- 
thetic capable  of  living  together  in  complete 
harmony?  And  if  not,  would  not  the  love 
turn  into  as  immeasurable  a  hate?  With  a 
man  and  a  love  like  Weldon's,  on  the  other 
hand,  a  quarrel  would  be  more  than  atoned 
for  in  the  very  pleasure  of  "making  up." 
Weldon  could  give  her  all  those  things  in 
life  she  craved  and  which  money  alone  could 
find.  There  need  be  no  more  economizing— 
instead,  luxuriating.  That  was  it:  there 
would  be  physical  luxury,  but  would  there 
be  mental  luxury?  Would  not  life  with  a 
man  who  was  not  in  sympathy  with  you, 
but  followed  you  about  like  a  dog,  become 
tedious,  commonplace,  a  long  bore?  She 
hated  anything  commonplace.  To  be  bored, 
to  her  high-strung,  nervous  sensibilities,  was 
martyrdom:  she  would  almost  rather  be 
burned  at  the  stake.  But  couldn't  she  bring 
herself  into  sympathy  with  him?  The  trou- 
ble was,  she  did  not  wish  to.  Then  she  did 
28 


CLYDE   FITCH 

not  love  him  enough  to  marry  him.  But 
suppose  she  did  love  him  sufficiently,  and 
then  that,  after  she  had  married  Douglas, 
some  one  else — this  other  man — should  ap- 
pear. .  .  .  She  shuddered,  and  her  lips  grew 
hard  and  narrow.  She  stood  up  in  the  room 
and  spoke  aloud : 

"I  can't  decide! — I  can't!  Things  must 
drift." 

As  sure  as  one  drifts,  one  goes  down  the 
river  to  the  rapids,  or  else  out  into  the  shore- 
less, bottomless  sea.  It  is  only  when  one 
works  with  the  oar  that  one  goes,  against 
the  current,  up-stream  to  the  source  of  all 
things. 

She  took  up  her  violin  and  played  to  re- 
lieve her  thoughts.  For  a  few  moments  the 
strains  of  music  beat  upon  the  air  like  waves 
that  break  on  a  sanded  beach.  Then  she 
stopped,  exhausted,  and  went  into  the 
library  before  going  upstairs,  and  looked  all 
about  her  for  a  book.  "It  was  here  before 
29 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

dinner.     What's  become  of  it?"  she  mur- 
mured, closing  the  door  behind  her. 

Rita  had  just  read  the  finis,  and  had  closed 
the  book,  and  was  thinking. 


CHAPTER  II 

next  morning  Rita  was  in  the 
A  music-room,  placing  fresh  flowers 
about,  when  a  package  came  for  her.  She 
had  just  taken  the  faded  lily  out  of  the  vase 
on  the  piano,  and,  with  it  still  in  her  hand, 
she  tore  off  the  papers  about  Farnsworth's 
book.  She  turned  quickly  to  the  fly-leaf, 
and  found  there  underneath  his  name  a 
quatrain : 

This  promised  book 

To  you  I  send: 
Give  it  a  look, 

And  me — a  friend. 

Rita  smiled  with  pleasure,  and  spoke  aloud 
to  herself,  as  she  turned  over  the  leaves  to- 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

ward  the  last  chapter,  with  an  undefined  sort 
of  feeling  that  perhaps  in  this,  her  volume, 
,  it  ended  differently.  She  heard  her  mother 
calling  her,  and  shut  the  book  suddenly,  with 
the  withered  lily  between  the  leaves,  and 
went  to  see  what  she  was  wanted  for. 

When  she  came  back  Madge  was  prac- 
ticing. She  wished  to  show  her  her  quatrain, 
but  Madge  said  she  wouldn't  be  bored. 

"Rita,"  she  asked,  running  down  the 
scale,  "do  you  like  that  man?" 

"Yes,  I  do,  and  better  than  most  men 
the  first  time  I  see  them." 

"I  can  tell  you  one  thing" — tightening  a 
string — "he's  a  flirt.  You'd  better  be  care- 
ful." 

"Madge,  don't  be  absurd.  I  haven't  seen 
the  man  but  once.  I  hope  you  don't  think 
I'm  silly  enough  to  fall  in  love  with  every 
agreeable  man  mamma  asks  to  the  house? 
You're  like  a  professional  gymnast,  the  way 
you  jump  at  conclusions." 
32 


CLYDE   FITCH 

"But  you  know,  Rita,  that  you  can't 
flirt:  you're  impossible  at  it." 

"Well,  what  if  I  can't?  and  suppose  that 
we  had  known  each  other  some  time,  and 
that  I  did  care  for  him?  what  if  he  were  a 
flirt?  Plenty  of  people  would  tell  Douglas 
Weldon  that  you  were  a  flirt." 

"He  wouldn't  believe  them  if  they  did," 
replied  Madge,  picking  a  jig  on  her  violin 
with  her  left  hand. 

"Perhaps  it  would  be  better  for  him  if 
he  would,"  suggested  Rita  blandly. 

"That's  just  it,  Rita — just  what  I  told 
you.  You'd  better  give  it  up.  You're  too 
sweet."  And  she  kissed  her.  "You  can't 
argue  about  flirting:  you  don't  know  what 
you're  talking  about.  Now  I  must  practice ; 
I  promised  mamma  I  would,  and  I  have  a 
lesson  to-morrow." 

Mrs.  Synnett  was  in  the  library,  reading 
Daudet's  last  novel  in  the  original,  with  a 
33 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

pocket  dictionary.  She  looked  up  when  her 
daughter  entered. 

"Rita,"  she  said,  "do  you  know  anything 
about  Madge  and  Douglas  Weldon?  Is  she 
going  to  marry  him?" 

"I  don't  know,"  answered  Rita. 

"But  he  cannot  be  held  off  this  way  for- 
ever. He'll  get  tired  of  it." 

"Perhaps  that  is  what  Madge  wants." 

"My  dear  Rita,  how  can  you  suggest  such 
a  thing?  It  would  be  madness  for  Madge 
to  throw  away  such  a  chance.  It's  all  very 
well  for  you  to  have  your  high  ideals  about 
love  and  marriage,  but  you  know  what 
Madge  is.  She  will  be  a  wretched  woman 
if  she  can't  have  what  she  wants  in  the  world. 
And  if  she  can't  love  Douglas  Weldon  I 
don't  know  whom  she  can  love.  He  would 
make  a  perfect  husband." 

"Of  course  Madge  will  always  have  her 
music  to  fall  back  upon.  I  believe  she  is 
34 


CLYDE   FITCH 

fonder  of  her  violin  than  of  any  human 
being." 

"Dear  me,  Rita,  you've  picked  up  that 
idea  from  this  bohemian  set  of  your  father's. 
Madge  would  starve  on  her  music  alone. 
You  might  as  well  talk  of  living  by  your 
short  stories:  I  don't  mean  that  they  are 
not  clever,"  she  added  rather  quickly,  fear- 
ing she  had  hurt  her  daughter's  feelings — 
"you  know  what  I  think  of  them — but  they 
aren't  remunerative." 

"No,  not  very,"  and  Rita  smiled,  "but 
perhaps  some  time  I  shall  write  a  novel." 

"Well,  I  hope  so,  I'm  sure,"  answered 
Mrs.  Synnett  in  a  not  very  encouraging 
voice.  She  was  thinking  of  Madge  again. 
"Douglas  Weldon  could  give  her  every- 
thing she  wished  to  make  her  happy." 

"Do  you  think  he  would  make  her 
happy?"  said  Rita. 

"As  happy  as  any  one  could.  I  wish  you 
had  some  influence  with  her.  I  haven't  any. 
35 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

This  affair  worries  me  terribly.  I  want  to 
do  the  best  I  can  for  my  children,  but  some- 
times I  think  it's  not  appreciated,"  sighed 
Mrs.  Synnett. 

"Mamma  dear,"  remonstrated  Rita  coax- 
ingly,  "you  know  we  appreciate  everything. 
You  know " 

"Oh,  I  didn't  mean  you,  dear.  I  didn't 
mean  any  one  particularly."  And  she 
opened  her  novel  and  commenced  to  read. 

Rita  looked  about  the  room  for  something 
to  occupy  herself  with.  She  picked  up  a 
guitar  finally,  one  that  had  belonged  to  her 
mother  when  she  was  a  young  girl,  and 
strummed  an  accompaniment  to  some  softly- 
sung  songs,  among  the  cushions  of  a  big 
corner-seat. 

It  was  an  attractive  room — the  walls  hung 
with  dark,  large-figured  cretonne,  books  all 
about,  and  a  fine  collection  of  Delft  china 
on  the  mantel  and  chimney.  Photographs 
were  scattered  everywhere — interesting  ones, 
36 


CLYDE   FITCH 

many  of  them,  of  more  or  less  famous  people, 
and  signed  at  the  bottom.  There  were  two 
pictures  in  the  room,  one  a  Sargent  portrait 
of  Mrs.  Synnett,  and  the  other  one  of 
Henner's  nymphs,  a  small  study.  There 
was  a  large  unframed  copy,  in  photograph, 
of  a  Burne- Jones  head  on  the  mantel  behind 
one  of  the  Delft  vases:  this  was  Rita's. 

Madge,  when  she  finished  her  practicing, 
found  the  other  copy  of  Farnsworth's  book, 
and  took  it  up  into  her  own  room. 

Some  days  afterward  Mrs.  Synnett  was 
looking  for  it  in  vain.  She  wanted  really  to 
read  it.  She  began  to  like  Mr.  Farnsworth 
immensely,  he  was  so  perfectly  congenial  in 
every  way,  and  she  had  noticed  a  certain 
especial  attention  to  Rita. 

The  two  were  often  together.  They  en- 
joyed much  the  same  pictures,  and  Rita  was 
remarkably  well  read — better  than  Farns- 
worth himself.  They  went  to  art  exhibitions 
together,  read  and  criticized  books  together, 
37 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

and  they  had  not  been  friends  longer  than  a 
month  when  he  proposed  reading  to  her  some 
of  the  manuscript  chapters  of  his  forthcom- 
ing novel. 

Cyril  Farnsworth  was  an  orphan  of  very 
good  family  but  little  or  no  income,  save 
from  his  pen,  and  a  small  legacy  from  his 
mother,  which  only  helped  him  to  live  com- 
fortably. Living  comfortably  with  him  did 
not  mean  the  same  as  with  some  men.  It 
meant  nice  chambers,  in  no  matter  what  part 
of  town  as  long  as  they  were  decently  lo- 
cated and  convenient;  a  large  study  full  of 
old  tapestries,  old  stuffs,  old  furniture,  pic- 
tures, brasses,  antique  silver,  and  the  where- 
withal to  add  to  these  now  and  then,  by  won- 
derful bargains,  which  he  knew  how  to  make 
better  than  any  one  else.  It  meant  fashion- 
able clothes,  though  not  many,  and  it  meant 
flowers  to  give  away,  to  grow  on  his  desk, 
and  to  wear  in  his  buttonhole,  even  during  a 
blizzard.  He  had  never  saved  a  penny,  and 
38 


CLYDE   FITCH 

probably  never  would;  on  the  other  hand, 
he  was  not  in  debt,  and  had  never  been,  not 
even  during  his  college  days.  In  those  airy 
years  of  free  agency  he  had  been  president 
of  the  Dramatic  Association,  and  chairman 
of  the  cotillon  class,  and  editor  of  the  Liter- 
ary Monthly — till  one  term  he  fell  head  over 
heels  into  English  literature,  found  a  de- 
lightful professor  there,  and  never  really 
became  free  again. 

He  had  a  host  of  friends,  for  all  of  whom 
he  cared  a  great  deal.  He  was  unaffected 
and  unconscious.  He  had  too  much  sympa- 
thy for  people,  and  was  never  found  lacking 
a  generous  impulse.  He  did  not  know  how 
to  say  "no,"  but  he  could  say  "yes"  if  he 
meant  it  or  not,  though  he  would  hardly  be 
called  a  liar.  With  the  world  he  was  world- 
ly; with  his  friends,  or  those  acquaintances 
whom  he  liked,  he  was  apt  to  be  simply  him- 
self. Like  all  people  of  his  temperament, 
he  was  a  man  of  moods,  and  he  had  found 
39 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

Rita  Synnett  in  sympathy  with  all  of  them. 
He  had  gone  to  her  unreasonably  depressed, 
or  foolishly  elated,  and  left  her  invariably 
with  his  mind  at  rest  in  that  medium  of  calm 
which  does  more  for  the  busy  brain  than  a 
cool  night's  sleep.  He  never  failed  to  find 
her  where  he  expected  her,  in  judgment  and 
in  thought.  She  even  discovered  those  faults 
in  his  work  which  in  many  cases  he  had  felt 
to  be  unsatisfactory  to  himself,  and  almost 
unerringly  phrased  those  especial  passages 
over  which  he  had  smiled  with  a  certain  sense 
of  pleasure  as  he  wrote  them.  He  had  never 
been  bored  in  Rita's  presence.  They  talked 
or  they  were  silent,  it  made  no  difference, 
either  way  he  was  happy  with  her.  And  she 
gave  him  that  most  delicate  of  all  flattery 
to  a  man,  a  glad  welcome  whenever  she  saw 
him,  even  if  he  had  only  left  her  a  few  hours 
before.  This  was  all  the  more  forcible  in 
comparison  with  her  sister's  manner.  In 
40 


CLYDE   FITCH 

fact,  Madge  seemed  always  to  be  leaving 
the  room  as  he  entered  it. 

Madge  interested  and  puzzled  him.  He 
could  not  help  admiring  her,  in  spite  of  her 
conspicuous  disinclination  for  his  society. 
He  was  obliged  to  confess  that  she  was 
always  handsome  and  at  times  strangely, 
indescribably  beautiful,  that  she  was  exceed- 
ingly clever,  and  her  wit  brilliant,  if  some- 
times scathing.  She  was  often  unwarranta- 
bly rude,  and  often  as  unexpectedly  kind. 
She  was  as  extreme  in  the  one  as  she  was 
in  the  other.  She  shocked  him  and  surprised 
him  with  delight  alternately,  until  she  fairly 
bewildered  him,  and  on  one  occasion  he  went 
to  her  sister  for  an  explanation.  What  Rita 
said  was,  "Oh,  you  must  know  Madge  as 
we  do,  then  you'll  love  her  as  we  do;  but 
you  must  not  try  to  find  a  reason  for  what 
she  does." 

He  knew,  before  he  heard  her,  that  she 
would  play  well.  But  still  when  he  heard 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

her  he  was  surprised,  and  wondered,  not  at 
the  perfection  of  her  playing,  but  at  the 
feeling  she  put  in  it,  and  the  beauty  of  her 
method.  His  first  hearing  her  was  by  acci- 
dent, for  she  had  constantly  refused  to  play 
before  him.  But  one  day,  while  waiting  in 
the  library  for  her  sister,  he  heard  the  sound 
of  a  violin,  and  slipped  in  through  the  half- 
open  door  of  the  music-room.  Madge  had 
broken  off  in  the  middle  of  what  she  was 
practicing,  as  she  often  did,  and  was  play- 
ing parts  of  a  well-known  mass.  She  was 
not  a  religious  girl,  but  she  had  a  great 
love  for  church  music.  She  had  moved  from 
the  piano  and  her  rack,  and  stood  with  her 
side-face  toward  him.  Her  body  swayed 
slightly  in  harmony  with  the  modulation  of 
the  music,  which  was  sorrowful  and  came 
with  a  minor  wail  that  sank  heavily  into 
Farnsworth's  heart,  steeping  his  senses  in 
a  momentary  melancholy  for  which  he  knew 
no  other  actual  reason.  When  she  stopped 
42 


CLYDE   FITCH 

he  came  forward,  but  for  a  minute  he  felt 
unable  to  speak;  and  when  Madge  saw  him 
she  drew  back,  her  eyes,  on  whose  deep 
fringes  there  were  tears,  blazing  suddenly. 

"Mr.  Farnsworth,"  she  said,  "how  dared 
you  creep  in  and  listen  to  me?  You  know 
I  have  always  refused  to  play  to  you.  You 
have  taken  a  dishonorable  advantage." 

And,  as  unconscious  as  he  that  she  was  in 
her  dressing-gown,  in  which  she  had  stolen 
downstairs  in  the  middle  of  the  afternoon, 
she  swept  indignantly  past  him,  with  the 
magnificent  demeanor  of  an  injured  prima 
donna.  It  might  have  softened  it  a  little 
for  him  if  he  had  known  she  was  putting 
the  words  of  a  poem  of  his  to  the  music,  but 
he  did  not  know  this,  and  that  it  was  true 
only  made  her  the  more  angry. 

Into  Weldon's  ear  Madge  poured  every- 
thing: how  much  she  detested  Farnsworth, 
and  how  clever  he  was ! — that  she  could  not 
understand  how  Rita  could  see  so  much  of 
43 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

him,  but  how  very  handsome  he  was,  and 
what  perfect  manners  he  had!  She  contra- 
dicted this  last  after  the  music-room  episode. 
She  described  his  behavior  then  as  that  of 
a  "beast,"  although  during  the  same  con- 
versation— it  was  a  week  afterward — she 
spoke  of  his  great  appreciation  of  music. 
She  and  Weldon  had  just  come  in  from  a 
walk. 

"Madge,"  he  said,  "it  seems  to  me  you're 
always  talking  about  Farnsworth.  I  wish 
you'd  talk  about  something  else." 

Madge  was  nonplussed :  she  did  not  know 
how  she  had  talked  so  much  about  him.  She 
laughed. 

"Why,  Douglas,  are  you  jealous?" 

"No,  not  exactly  that.  I'm  not  the  jeal- 
ous kind." 

"I  know  you're  not.  I  wish  you  were.  I 
can't  understand  a  love  without  jealousy." 

"Then  you  don't  understand  mine?" 

"Oh,  I  understand  yours  as  far  as  it  goes" 
44 


CLYDE    FITCH 

—she    laughed    again,    cynically — "bwi    it 
doesn't  go  far  enough." 

Weldon  liked  to  hear  Madge  talk  in  this 
way.  She  amused  him,  for  he  did  not  realize 
how  much  in  earnest  she  was;  and  when 
sometimes  she  grew  angry,  he  fairly  wor- 
shiped her.  She  was  grand  in  a  rage,  and 
he  was  not  enough  in  sympathy  to  be  afraid 
of  her,  and,  besides,  he  never  was  afraid  of 
anything.  Only  sometimes  he  was  a  trifle 
discouraged  or  impatient.  He  answered 
then — 

"Madge,  shall  I  never  be  able  to  satisfy 
you?  Will  you  never  learn  to  love  me? 
What  can  I  do  to  make  you?" 

"Oh,  Douglas,  Douglas!"  she  said,  smil- 
ing seriously;  "in  the  first  place,  never  ask 
a  girl  what  you  shall  do  to  make  her  love 
you.  You  must  do  it  of  yourself,  whatever 
it  is." 

They   were   still    standing,    facing   each 
45 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

other.  She  looked  straight  into  his  eyes  and 
said — 

"Why  don't  you  give  it  up?" 

He  gazed  calmly  back  into  those  large, 
unfathomable,  blue  depths  of  hers  without 
flinching. 

"I  will  never  give  up." 

And  he  meant  it.  He  was  determined  to 
win  her  by  his  very  constancy,  if  by  nothing 
else.  He  was  sure  that  would  win  her  in  time, 
for  it  would  win  him,  and  he  could  not  rea- 
son any  differently  for  her  or  for  any  one 
than  he  reasoned  for  himself.  When 
Douglas  Weldon  put  himself  in  any  one's 
place,  it  was  not  a  change  of  temperament 
or  nature,  it  was  only  a  change  of  locality. 

"If  you  only  would  give  me  up,"  Madge 
said,  "or  get  angry  with  me,  like  every  one 
else,  perhaps  I  would  love  you  more.  But 
you  won't,  of  course.  Why  didn't  you  fall 
in  love  with  Rita?" 

He  took  her  hand,  and  she  let  him  hold  it, 
46 


CLYDE   FITCH 

wondering  just  what  he  would  do  with  it. 
He  had  a  firm,  well-shaped  hand,  that  still 
held  her  delicate,  sensitive  fingers  tenderly. 
She  could  not  but  feel  in  it  a  sense  of  pro- 
tection and  strength. 

"Don't  you  believe  you  do  love  me  a  little, 
in  spite  of  yourself?"  he  asked. 

Madge  gave  him  a  puzzled  glance  and 
drew  her  hand  away.  She  did  not  know 
whether  she  thought  him  a  fool  or  a  very  wise 
man.  But  she  felt  she  must  make  up  her 
mind  soon,  in  simple  fairness  to  him. 

"Douglas,"  she  said,  "you  shall  have  your 
answer  on  your  birthday." 

"But  that's  not  for  nearly  a  month." 
"Well,  aren't  you  willing  to  wait?" 
She  would  have  been  glad  if  he  had  not 
been :  it  would  have  pleased  her  to  have  him 
press  her  for  an  answer  then  and  refuse  to 
be  put  off.    But  Weldon's  impatience  had 
passed  away,  and  he  was  willing  to  wait, 
47 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

especially  with  the  certainty  of  an  answer 
before  him  at  a  stated  time. 

There  was  a  slight  commotion  in  the  hall, 
and  the  maid  brought  in  Mr.  Farnsworth's 
card.  Madge  made  a  grimace. 

"Show  Mr.  Farnsworth  into  the  library," 

she  said,  "and  take  the  card  to  Miss  Rita." 

"Won't    you    play    something    for    me, 

Madge?"  asked  Weldon,  when  the  maid  was 

gone. 

"Why,  I  can't  have  any  accompaniment," 
she  answered. 

"That  doesn't  make  any  difference  to  me." 

"What  shall  I  play?"  she  asked. 

"Anything;  only,"  bashfully,  "I  should 
like  something  with  a  tune." 

"Oh,  Douglas,  Douglas!"  she  said,  smil- 
ing. Madge's  smile  was  often  like  the  ripple 
on  a  deep  pool:  she  smiled,  but  you  saw  a 
seriousness  behind,  like  the  darker  depths 
beneath  the  dimpled  water. 

She  thought  to  herself  as  she  took  up  her 
48 


CLYDE   FITCH 

violin  how  like  him  the  speech  was ;  he  didn't 
care  for  music,  it  was  only  her  he  cared  for; 
it  wouldn't  make  any  difference  whether  she 
played  a  national  or  a  sonata — he  wouldn't 
understand.  But  she  was  partially  wrong; 
for  he  would  have  much  preferred  the  na- 
tional air. 

Douglas  sat  down  in  the  window  and 
watched  her:  it  was  something  he  loved  to 
do,  to  watch  her  without  talking.  First  she 
played  some  sprightly  ballet  music.  Then 
she  wilfully  changed  it  into  the  parts  of  the 
mass  she  had  played  unconsciously  to  Farns- 
worth  that  afternoon  a  week  ago.  Douglas 
only  saw  the  expression  he  worshiped  come 
into  her  face,  and  dropped  his  cigarette  into 
a  vase  near  his  elbow,  so  the  smoke  would 
not  be  between  his  eyes  and  her.  When  she 
finished,  and  he  spoke,  she  started  and  looked 
around,  as  if  she  had  forgotten  who  was 
there. 

Farnsworth  and  Rita  were  discussing  a 
49 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

new  book  in  the  library.  Rita  was  disap- 
pointed, when  she  came  down,  that  he  had 
not  brought  his  own  manuscript ;  but  Farns- 
worth  said  it  was  not  quite  ready  to  read 
to  her  yet. 

"I  don't  think  it  will  pay  you  to  read  Bond 
Breckenridge's  new  book,"  he  told  her:  "it 
is  nothing  but  a  love-story  pure  and  simple." 

"But  I  like  some  love-stories.  I  don't 
mean  that  in  choosing  a  book  I  should  ask 
only  if  it  were  a  love-story  or  not,  but  I  do 
like  to  find  love  in  it.  Now,  do  you  think 
me  awfully  sentimental?" 

"No,  indeed."  And  they  both  laughed, 
though  neither  could  have  told  exactly  why. 
"But  this  new  novel  of  mine  has  no  love  in 
it.  It's  been  my  idea  to  write  such  a  book 
for  some  time.  I  don't  know  how  successful 
I'm  going  to  be." 

"That  depends,  of  course,  on  how  interest- 
ing it  is,  and  what  you  have  to  create  that 
interest.  You  must  have  something.  I  sup- 

50 


CLYDE   FITCH 

pose  love  doesn't  interest  the  world  generally 
as  much  as  it  used  to.  What  is  it  about, 
your  book?" 

"It's  about — I  should  say  it  was  about 
the  lack  of  love.  It's  what  some  people  call 
a  Social  Study.  It  deals  with  modern 
society." 

"Do  you  mean  it's  like  one  of  Mr. 
Howells's?" 

"No.  But  I've  taken  a  set  of  worldly  peo- 
ple full  of  schemes  and  plans  for  life,  some 
of  which  are  successful  and  some  of  which 
are  not.  However  it  is,  it  makes  but  little 
difference.  The  'set'  continues  on.  Clever 
women  make  and  keep  places  in  society  for 
themselves  to  which  they  have  no  right. 
Clever  men  marry  pretty  girls  who  are  rich, 
and  obtain  a  home  which  they  only  use  as  a 
convenience.  People  become  engaged,  mar- 
ried and  divorced,  all  with  equal  facility  and 
without  even  a  reference  to  love — at  any 
rate,  not  the  true  sort.  Politicians  are  suc- 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

cessful.  Millionaires  fail.  Babies  are  born. 
Old  people  live  on.  Young  girls  die." 

Rita  did  not  answer  immediately.  She 
did  not  know  quite  what  to  say.  She  was 
wondering  if  he  were  writing  one  of  those 
immoral  novels.  She  hoped  not,  but  she  did 
not  know  how  to  say  so.  She  concluded, 
however,  that  he  would  not  have  proposed 
reading  it  to  her  in  that  case — although  she 
knew  some  men,  nowadays,  were  decidedly 
free  about  such  things,  especially  the  artists 
with  whom  Farnsworth  spent  much  of  his 
time  (really,  when  he  did  not  spend  it  with 
her,  but  she  did  not  think  of  it  in  that  way) . 
She  asked  another  question: 

"Have  you  any  religion  in  it  ?  Most  books 
have  now." 

"No  study  of  religion,  if  you  mean  that." 

"Yes.  Mamma  told  me,  I  think,  you 
were  a  High  Churchman." 

"Yes,  that  form  of  worship  appeals  to 
me  more  than  any  other.  Some  people  tell 


CLYDE   FITCH 

me  it's  wrong,  because  it's  reaching  God 
through  the  medium  of  my  senses;  but  I 
don't  see  why  that's  wrong,  if  I  reach  Him. 
Others  tell  me  that  what  I  worship  is  the 
Ritual,  and  not  God;  and  I  can  only  tell 
them  they  are  wrong — that  the  beauty  of  the 
service  lifts  me  more  out  of  my  worldly  self 
and  into  a  purer  mood  of  appreciation  and 
thought,  a  loftier  state  of  mind.  I  never 
argue  about  religious  matters,  because  I 
can't.  I  only  know  what  I  believe,  unbe- 
lievingly, and  that  I  am  a  poor  example  of 
those  who  agree  with  me:  so  I  try  to  keep 
myself  in  the  background." 

"I  don't  know  just  what  I  do  believe,  but 
I  often  wish  I  had  been  brought  up  to  be  a 
Church  woman :  it  might  have  made  a  differ- 
ence; I  don't  know.  You  see,  mamma  was 
an  Episcopalian  and  papa  a  Presbyterian 
when  they  married,  and  between  themselves 
and  their  two  families  they  could  not  decide 
which  should  give  up  to  the  other,  and  it 

53 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

ended  in  their  not  going  to  any  church  very 
often,  and  now  mamma  is  a  Social  Scientist." 

"Really!"  exclaimed  Farnsworth,  much 
astonished.  He  had  never  in  the  least  un- 
derstood what  a  Social  Scientist  was,  but 
he  had  always  had  an  abhorrence  of  them, 
and  believed  them  all  to  be  cranks. 

Rita  laughed  at  his  very  evident  surprise. 

"You  needn't  be  alarmed,"  she  said:  "she 
isn't  much  of  a  one.  Between  ourselves,  I 
don't  think  she  believes  in  it  herself  really, 
but  it  amuses  her  and  gives  her  something  to 
think  of;  and  then  we  are  all  very  fond  of 
Miss  Wright,  who  won  mamma  over.  She's 
one  of  the  great  leaders." 

"You're  not  one  of  them?"  said  Farns- 
worth, somewhat  beseechingly. 

"Oh,  no!  I  don't  know  what  I  am.  I 
wish  I  were  more  of  something.  I  seem  to 
believe  in  a  God,  but — don't  be  shocked — I 
don't  know  what  kind  of  a  one.  Sometimes 
I've  thought  I  was  a  sort  of  pantheist,  I'm 

54 


CLYDE   FITCH 

so  fond  of  nature.  I  always  spend  my  sum- 
mers away  off  somewhere  in  the  country,  in- 
stead of  going  with  mamma  to  the  watering- 
places  and  'resorts.'  And — do  you  know? — 
I  can  make  flowers  live  longer  than  any  one 
else.  .  .  .  That  has  always  been  one  of  the 
odd  differences  between  Madge  and  me, 
since  we  were  little  girls.  Madge  loves  flow- 
ers too,  but  she  always  wore  hers  till  they 
were  bruised,  or  broken,  and  faded,  and  then 
she  pressed  them,  if  they  were  ones  she 
wanted  especially  to  keep,  in  her  favorite 
book.  I  never  wore  mine,  or,  if  I  did,  not 
till  they  were  dead.  I  put  them  in  water 
and  nursed  them,  until  they  blossomed  them- 
selves away,  and  only  the  stems  and  fallen 
petals  were  left."  She  looked  at  Farns- 
worth,  and  her  face  fell.  His  eyes  were  far 
away,  and  he  did  not  seem  to  be  listening. 
"I'm  boring  you,"  she  said  penitently.  He 
started. 

55 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

"Indeed  you  are  not,"  he  answered,  look- 
ing at  her  earnestly.  "I  was  only  thinking." 

"Thinking  what?"  she  asked,  when  he 
stopped  abruptly,  indefinitely  expecting 
something. 

He  had  been  thinking  what  an  exquisite, 
ideal  little  creature  she  was — how  that  all  her 
life  she  had  been  tossed  about  from  her 
mother  to  her  sister  as  a  plaything,  and  yet 
she  had  kept  a  character  of  her  own,  sweeter 
and  more  stable  than  theirs.  He  could  not 
remember  ever  having  seen  a  look  of  dis- 
contentment on  her  face.  He  had  been  with 
her  when  she  was  disappointed  and  annoyed, 
but  she  had  not  let  either  feeling  get  the 
better  of  her.  She  never  did  a  tedious  or 
disagreeable  thing,  if  she  could  help  it,  but 
if  such  things  had  to  be  done,  arid  could  not 
be  put  off  any  longer,  she  did  them  herself 
quietly,  instead  of  leaving  them  for  the  sym- 
pathetic hands  of  some  one  else.  She  was 
the  most  restful  person  he  had  ever  known. 
56 


CLYDE   FITCH 

Just  to  look  at  her  made  him  happier.  But 
he  did  not  tell  her  that  these  had  been  his 
thoughts. 

"I  was  thinking,"  he  said,  "how  you  are 
naturally  good  and  true  without  that  stimu- 
lus with  which  I  am  a  careless,  wicked 
fellow."  And,  in  spite  of  the  pleasure  which 
his  praise  gave  her,  Rita  felt  somehow  dis- 
appointed with  his  answer. 

Shortly  after  he  went  away,  leaving  be- 
hind the  novel  he  had  brought,  unopened. 
When  he  said  good-bye  he  added — 

"You  don't  know  how  much  I  think  of 
you,  Miss  Rita."  Always  before  he  had 
called  her  Miss  Synnett.  He  had  that  seri- 
ous look  in  his  eyes  which  Rita  liked.  She 
answered  him,  with  a  smile  that  a  more  con- 
ceited or  less  irresponsible  man  would  have 
understood — 

"And  I  of  you." 

She  hoped  he  would  linger  a  little  longer, 
but  he  only  hesitated  a  moment,  and  then 
57 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

went  out  of  the  room.  She  stood  for  some 
time  just  where  he  left  her,  the  discarded 
novel  lying  forgotten  on  the  floor  at  her  feet, 
thinking  over  their  conversation,  and  of  what 
good  friends  they  were — simply  good,  honest 
friends. 

On  the  steps  as  he  was  leaving  the  house 
Farnsworth  met  Madge.  She  had  strolled 
out  with  Weldon  again,  and  he  had  just  left 
her.  The  air  had  put  her  in  the  best  of 
spirits:  she  even  felt  agreeably  inclined 
toward  Mr.  Farnsworth. 

"You're  coming  to-morrow  night,"  she 
said,  "aren't  you?  You  know  it  is  mamma's 
night  at  home,  and  we  are  going  to  have 
some  music.  Mrs.  Jones-Robbins  is  going 
to  sing." 

"Thanks,"  Farnsworth  replied.  "I  shall 
certainly  come  now,  after  a  special  invita- 
tion from  you.  And  I  shall  take  it  for  a 
peace-offering." 

"By  no  means.  You're  entirely  too  grasp- 
58 


CLYDE    FITCH 

ing.  At  the  most  it's  only  a  very  temporary 
flag  of  truce,"  said  Madge,  amusedly. 

"Really,  you  know,  you  can't  blame  me: 
the  end  quite  justified  the  means,"  he  said, 
determined  to  make  the  most  of  his  oppor- 
tunity. 

"But  you'll  acknowledge,"  trying  unsuc- 
cessfully to  look  serious,  "that  it  was  abomin- 
able, contemptible  of  you?" 

"Oh,  yes,  I'll  acknowledge  anything,  if 
you'll  pardon  me,"  he  said  serio-comically. 

"I  will  on  one  condition" — her  manner 
changed  completely;  she  was  altogether  in 
earnest  now:  "it  is  that  you  won't  confine  all 
your  reading  to  Rita,  but  will  read  to  me — 
once." 

"It  would  bore  you  to  death." 

"Don't  be  foolish.    I'll  run  that  risk." 

"Done,  then." 

And  they  shook  hands.  There  was  an 
indescribable  sensation  of  magnetism,  as  if 
their  two  hearts  were  striving  to  beat  in 
59 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

time,  like  the  getting  into  step  of  two  com- 
rades in  marching.  It  was  a  strange  sense 
of  unusual  sympathy  that  startled  Farns- 
worth  so  that  he  forgot  to  let  go  her  hand 
till  Madge  suddenly  drew  it  away,  trem- 
bling. Smiling  strainedly  at  him,  she  turned 
and  went  into  the  house  without  speaking. 
Farnsworth  lifted  his  hat,  and  walked  slowly 
up  the  street. 

"There's  something  strange  about  that 
girl  that  draws  me  to  her  and  at  the  same 
time  repels  me,"  he  said  to  himself;  and  he 
thought  of  Madge  all  the  way  home. 

That  night  he  worked  on  his  novel.  He 
tried  a  change.  He  wrote  a  love-passage 
into  it,  which  he  felt  strongly  when  he  read 
it  aloud  to  himself,  late,  just  before  going 
to  bed;  but  in  the  morning,  before  taking 
certain  chapters  to  read  to  Rita,  he  cut  it 
out. 


60 


CHAPTER  III 

MRS.  SYNNETT  was  never  happier 
than  when  receiving  her  friends  on 
Sunday  evening.  The  moment  any  one  en- 
tered her  rooms  she  made  him  feel  welcome, 
and  then  placed  him  agreeably  in  conversa- 
tion somewhere.  She  was  with  her  guests 
like  an  artist  with  his  colors:  she  knew  how 
to  combine  those  that  went  well  together. 
And  her  music-room  was  always  crowded, 
because  people  knew  they  would  not  be  de- 
pended upon  to  amuse  themselves  and  their 
hostess  at  Mrs.  Synnett's. 

This  Sunday  evening  Farnsworth  and 
Weldon  had  dined  there  informally,  after 
walking  home  with  the  two  girls  from  the 
afternoon  service  at  St.  Mary's,  where  they 
had  gone  to  hear  some  festival  music.  Wel- 
61 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

don  was  being  made  use  of  by  Mrs.  Synnett. 
He  was  always  willing  to  be  introduced  to 
any  one  for  the  sake  of  helping  her  in  any 
way.  He  did  not  have  Farnsworth's  tact  of 
himself  filling  up  a  breach,  but  he  would 
allow  himself  to  be  bored  with  perfect  com- 
posure when  told  how. 

Rita  was  regularly  sacrificed  on  the  social 
altar  every  Sunday  evening  by  her  mother, 
without  any  of  the  parental  compunction 
which  filled  the  breast  of  Abraham  when  he 
led  Isaac  up  the  mountain.  Nothing,  of 
course,  was  expected  of  Madge,  except  what 
she  would  do  of  her  own  sweet  will,  which 
sometimes  was  more  than  the  others  were 
capable  of,  but  was  more  often  rather  little. 
She  stood  this  evening  with  Farnsworth,  at 
one  side,  telling  him  who  the  people  were  as 
they  came  in,  and  criticizing  freely.  Rita 
saw  the  evident  state  of  good  feeling  between 
them  with  pleased  surprise. 

"Ah!  who  is  that?"  asked  Farnsworth,  as 
62 


CLYDE    FITCH 

a  tall,  handsome  woman  dressed  in  red,  with 
a  superb  figure,  greeted  Weldon  somewhat 
impressively  and  took  him  away  from  an  ir- 
responsive, middle-aged,  thin  little  creature, 
a  poetess  whose  volume  had  not  yet  come 
out,  and  with  whom  he  had  been  trying  to 
converse  on  his  whole  repertoire  of  topics. 

"That's  Mrs.  Norris.  Isn't  she  stun- 
ning?" 

"Who  is  she?" 

"Why,  don't  you  know?  She  writes  so- 
ciety articles  for  the  papers.  Every  one  is 
awfully  afraid  of  her,  except  the  men,  and 
they  all  worship  her." 

"I  don't  wonder." 

"No;  do  you?  I'm  with  the  men.  I'm 
devoted  to  her.  We're  great  friends.  I'll 
introduce  you." 

"Thanks — later;  I'm  in  no  hurry  just  now. 
Who's  her  husband?" 

"Her  what?"  repeated  Madge,  laughing. 
"I'm  sure  I  don't  know.  Nobody  does.  No- 

63 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

body  ever  saw  him  or  heard  of  him.  She 
hasn't  any." 

"But  I  thought  you  said  she  was  Mrs. 
Norris?" 

"I  did,  but  she's  a  divorcee.  I  should  have 
thought  you'd  know  that  when  I  told  you 
she  was  a  society  correspondent  of  the  news- 
papers. They  nearly  all  are ;  I  think  it  must 
be  one  of  the  requirements;  and  they  add 
to  it  the  ability  to  keep  their  reputation  bet- 
ter and  longer  than  most  society  women, 
and  against  twice  as  great  odds." 

Farnsworth  was  watching  her  talk  with 
Weldon.  Her  face  was  full  of  splendid  ani- 
mation. Health,  spirit,  worldly  wisdom, 
freedom,  were  expressed  in  every  feature 
and  movement.  She  would  have  made  a  fine 
Goddess  of  Liberty  as  she  stood  there. 

"We've  known   her,"   Madge  went   on, 

"ever  since  I  can  remember.    She's  awfully 

amusing,  and  so  clever.    You  ought  to  hear 

her    apologize    for    putting    mamma's    'at 

64 


CLYDE   FITCH 

homes'  in  her  notes,  because  mamma  pre- 
tends she  doesn't  like  being  in  the  news- 
papers, when  we  know,  and  so  does  Mrs. 
Norris,  of  course,  that  it  really  pleases  her 
and  that  she  cuts  out  and  keep  every  notice." 

"She  seems  to  like  Weldon  very  much." 

"Yes,  because  she  can't  flirt  with  him.  He 
doesn't  know  how  to  flirt.  You'd  better  give 
him  lessons."  She  looked  quizzically  at  him. 

"Thanks,"  said  Farnsworth,  smiling.  "I 
shouldn't  like  to  interfere  with  your  train- 
ing. I  should  say  he  was  in  a  fair  way  to 
learn  here,  if  he  is  going  to  at  all." 

"That's  one  for  you,"  said  Madge;  "but 
I  told  Rita,  after  the  first  time  I  saw  you, 
that  you  were  a  flirt." 

"Did  you?"  answered  Farnsworth  pro- 
vokingly. 

"Oh,  you're  getting  disagreeable  again," 
said  Madge.  "Let's  talk  about  the  people. 
You'll  know  them  all  intimately  before  the 
65 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

winter's  over.  Most  of  them  come  regu- 
larly." 

"Well,  then,  tell  me  who  all  those  people 
are  grouped  in  the  corner." 

"Where?  Oh,  yes.  The  man  standing 
with  the  bright  necktie  is  a  Browning  reader. 
The  lady  next  to  him,  with  the  suspiciously 
golden  hair,  is  Mrs.  Hedder,  the  great  ama- 
teur actress  (don't  you  know? — five  dollars 
a  ticket,  and  no  seat  when  you  get  there) . 
They're  always  together;  she  says  her  hus- 
band doesn't  care  for  society,  and  it's  quite 
evident  he  doesn't — for  that  of  his  wife.  The 
quiet  little  woman  next  to  her  is  an  uninter- 
esting non-entity,  but  she's  very  rich,  and 
takes  a  box  for  all  of  Mrs.  Hedder's  per- 
formances, and  belongs  to  all  of  the  Brown- 
ing classes;  so  they  are  naturally  polite  to 
her.  Her  husband's  here  somewhere,  I'm 
sure ;  yes,  there  he  is  over  in  the  alcove,  look- 
ing at  a  book.  That's  the  way  he  spends 
his  whole  evening,  generally  with  the  same 
66 


CLYDE   FITCH 

book,  and  we  don't  bother  him,  because  we 
know  it  embarrasses  him  to  meet  strangers, 
and  he  can't  talk  to  save  his  neck.  His  wife 
wants  to  be  known  as  a  society  woman, 
though  why  the  Lord  only  knows,  for  she 
always  seems  bored  to  death,  and  no  one 
would  take  any  notice  of  her  if  she  didn't 
boast  a  chef  and  give  one  of  the  best  dinners 
in  New  York. 

"Those  two  men  talking  together  beside 
her  are  both  clever :  the  swellest  one,  with  the 
big  boutonniere,  is  an  English  literature  pro- 
fessor, and  a  delightful  essayist;  the  other's 
a  newspaper  editor.  One's  a  Republican, 
and  the  other's  a  Democrat;  and  that's  the 
way  they  go  on  all  evening.  The  tall,  aris- 
tocratic-looking woman  just  going  to  join 
them  is  Miss  Wright,  the  Social  Scientist." 
Madge  paused,  a  little  out  of  breath. 

"Is  it,  really?"  exclaimed  Farnsworth, 
leaning  over  interestedly  to  see  her  better. 

"Do  you  know  her?"  asked  Madge. 
67 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

"No;  oh,  no;  but  I've  heard  of  her. 
Please  go  on.  You  can't  imagine  how  en- 
tertained I  am." 

This  was  quite  true,  and  Madge,  who  was 
also  enjoying  it,  continued: 

"The  rest  of  the  group  in  the  corner  are— 
the  pretty  woman  in  the  yellow  dress  has 
written  a  successful  play,  which  is  running 
now  somewhere.  The  handsome  man  behind 
her  is  an  English  actor,  the  leading  man  in 
Mary  Anderson's  company.  She  was  going 
to  marry  him  once,  which  is  enough  to  make 
a  lot  of  other  women  want  to  now.  Next 
to  him  is  a  poet  who  writes  delightful  verses 
which  every  one  reads.  Just  behind  us— 
don't  look  around — is  his  opposite.  The 
young  girl  with  them  plays  on  the  piano — 
really  plays,  like  a  dream — the  kind  of  music 
which  makes  the  chills  creep  up  and  down 
your  back.  Now,"  taking  a  breath  and  smil- 
ing at  Farnsworth,  who  smiled  back,  enjoy- 
ing himself  hugely,  "the  lady  to  whom  mam- 
68 


CLYDE   FITCH 

ma  takes  so  many  people  is  a  new  novelist; 
but  of  course  you  know  her:  you  brought 
her  here.  That  man  poor  Rita  is  talking 
to  is  a  physiologist  of  some  sort — I  don't 
know  exactly  what,  but  it's  disagreeable,  and 
no  one  else  will  talk  to  him,  so  she  has  to, 
though  she  doesn't  understand  half  he  says, 
as  he  has  an  impediment  in  his  speech." 

He  looked  at  Rita  just  as  she  had  turned 
her  head  away  from  looking  at  him.  She 
was  envying  Madge  with  all  her  heart,  but 
was  honestly  trying  to  pay  attention  to  Mr. 
Roscommon.  Farnsworth  saw  the  distant 
look  in  her  clear  eyes,  and  felt  the  kind  little 
smile  was  forced.  He  wanted  to  go  to  her, 
to  take  her  away  from  that  man  who  seemed 
to  be  in  the  midst  of  a  long  harangue  and 
made  motions  every  now  and  then,  as  he 
talked,  with  a  large,  flat  hand.  He  decided 
he  would  go  after  Madge  had  finished  her 
amusing  description. 

"The  best-dressed  woman  in  the  room  is 
69 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

Mrs.  Van  Ostrand,"  said  Madge.    "She's  a 

connection  of  the  A s,  and  is  the  friend 

who  always  sends  us  our  Assembly  tickets, 
and  is  one  of  the  few  of  that  set  who  come 
often  to  the  house.  She  comes  because  it's 
different  here  and  amuses  her.  The  man 
coming  in  now  is  a  husband  without  his  wife, 
for  a  change,  instead  of  the  other  way 
around.  His  wife  is  a  great  friend  of  ours, 
but  she  doesn't  approve  of  Sunday  night  'at 
homes/  so  she  comes  to  see  us  other  times. 
The  tall,  lanky  man  by  the  piano  is  a  widow- 
er with  three  children,  who  has  been  in  love 
with  Rita  for  the  last  few  years,  but  who 
follows  her  about  from  a  distance,  so  you 
can't  exactly  snub  him.  He's  never  had 
the  courage  to  propose ;  and  we've  concluded 
that  when  he  married  before  it  must  have 
been  leap-year.  He  writes.  Everybody  here 
does  something.  Those  who  don't  do  any- 
thing else  over-exert  themselves  in  their  at- 
tempts to  do  nothing. 
70 


CLYDE   FITCH 

"The  handsome  man  with  the  gray  hair 
is  an  army  officer  from  the  fort,  who  goes 
everywhere  that  Mrs.  N  orris  does.  Three 
times  there  has  been  a  report  spread  that 
they  were  going  to  be  married;  but  they 
aren't  yet.  You  see  that  rather  stout,  bald 
man  who  is  going  around  trying  to  make 
himself  agreeable  to  every  one  who'll  let 
him?  He  was  a  very  popular  singer  once, 
but  it's  the  ghost  of  his  voice  now  that  walks. 
I  know  that  voices  usually  float,  or  soar,  or 
something  like  that,  but  his  doesn't  any 
longer,  I  assure  you :  it  has  come  down  now, 
and  walks.  Of  course  he  can't  get  profes- 
sional engagements  any  more,  so  he  goes  to 
all  the  'at  homes'  he  can,  hoping  to  be  asked 
to  sing  as  a  favor.  A  great  many  people 
do  ask  him,  but  mamma  doesn't  dare,  for 
I've  told  her  I  would  not  play  when  he  sang. 
He  sets  my  teeth  on  edge.  I  know  it's  horrid 
of  me,  but  I  can't  help  it.  And  of  course 
mamma  always  wants  to  exhibit  her  daugh- 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

ter.  It's  dreadful  to  have  the  showman  in- 
stinct in  your  mother.  There,  I've  finished." 

"I'm  sorry,"  said  Farnsworth,  laughing 
heartily.  "And  you  must  tell  me  who  this 
is,"  as  a  young  college  boy  walked  past  them 
and  stumbled  over  a  chair,  his  hands  being 
apparently  the  only  things  in  the  room  of 
which  he  was  conscious. 

"That,"  said  Madge,  suppressing  a  smile 
as  the  subject  of  their  conversation  bowed 
to  her  and  then  rolled  his  eyes  up  and  stared 
hard  at  the  ceiling  to  show  he  was  perfectly 
at  ease — "that  is  Mrs.  Osprey's  son.  She 
takes  him  around  with  her  everywhere;  she 
says  he's  such  a  protection — though  against 
what  she  needs  it  no  one  can  imagine.  That 
is  she  talking  to  the  unappreciated  poet  be- 
hind us — the  very  middle-aged  lady  in  the 
girlish  disguise." 

"Why  is  it,"  asked  Farnsworth,  "that  peo- 
ple are  so  afraid  of  growing  old?  Nearly 
72 


CLYDE   FITCH 

every  one  is  the  same.  We  value  youth 
almost  above  riches." 

"I  know  it,"  said  Madge.  "If  women 
especially  would  only  learn  to  grow  old 
gracefully!  But  we  don't,  somehow;  we 
spend  all  our  time  trying  to  rub  out  the 
lines  Time  draws,  like  the  photographer  who, 
in  'touching  up'  a  photograph,  usually  leaves 
it  characterless.  Well,  most  of  the  other 
people  are  charming,  as  you  will  find  out  for 
yourself.  Now  I'm  going  to  present  you  to 
Mrs.  Norris." 

Mrs.  Norris  and  Farnsworth  liked  each 
other  from  the  first.  She  had  read  his  book 
and  enjoyed  it,  and  she  made  him  realize  this 
without  actually  telling  him  so. 

"Of  course  you're  in  love  with  Madge," 
she  said.  "Isn't  she  a  wonderful  creature?" 

"Yes,  she  is;  but  I  don't  feel  that  I  know 
her  yet :  I  don't  understand  her." 

"You  mustn't  expect  to  understand  her," 
answered  Mrs.  Norris.  "There  are  some 
73 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

things,  human  as  well  as  divine,  that  you 
must  take  on  faith.  Madge  Synnett  is  one 
of  them.  I'd  give  anything  if  one  of  my 
children  were  like  her." 

"One  of  your  what?"  exclaimed  Farns- 
worth,  his  surprise  getting  the  better  of  him. 

"Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Norris,  looking  at  him 
amusedly  and  quite  enjoying  it.  "Didn't 
you  know  I  had  two  children,  down  in  my 
old  place  on  the  Hudson? — dear,  nice  chil- 
dren; but  it's  true  I  seldom  speak  of  them, 
and  they  never  come  up  to  town.  They're 
living  with  a  maiden  aunt  of  mine,  a  good 
old  creature  who  always  had  all  the  mater- 
nal feeling  of  the  family."  Farnsworth  was 
on  the  point  of  asking  how  old  they  were, 
but  saved  himself  just  in  time,  and  spoke  of 
Rita  instead.  Mrs.  Norris  echoed  his  ad- 
miration, but  said  she  understood  her  less 
than  Madge. 

"I  love  her,"  she  said,  "but  she's  quite 
beyond  me,  and  she's  the  one  person  in  the 
74 


CLYDE   FITCH 

world  who  reminds  me  I  have  a  conscience. 
I'm  never  with  her  long  at  a  time  without 
seeing  her  do  something  which  I  know  I 
ought  to  do,  but  I  won't  take  the  trouble. 
She's  a  clever  little  thing,  too.  She's  a  rival 
of  yours :  she  writes." 

"Yes,  I  know  it,"  said  Farnsworth;  "I've 
seen  several  of  her  short  stories:  they  are 
quite  original,  and  her  simplicity  of  style  is 
delightful.  It  is  only  because  she  is  as  yet 
immature  in  her  work  that  she  has  not  had 
more  success.  I  believe  with  some  great 
experience  she  would  do  great  things." 

"Of  course  she  hasn't  Madge's  genius," 
remarked  Mrs.  Norris,  with  the  complacent 
air  with  which  so  many  women  speak  of  the 
divine  spark. 

"Yes?"  answered  Farnsworth  in  a  non- 
committal voice,  not  sure  himself  whether 
he  should  speak  so  decidedly. 

"What  an  amusing  crowd  there  are  here!" 
75 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

he  continued  after  a  moment.  "I  suppose 
you  know  them  all?" 

"Yes,  most  of  them.  I  wish  I  could  be 
carried  off  and  dropped  right  down  in  the 
middle  of  an  entirely  new  set  of  people. 
These  all  get  to  look  more  or  less  alike — 
do  you  notice  it?  each  one  seems  to  say  to 
the  other,  'I  do  so-and-so,  what  do  you  do?' 
and  your  first  thought  always  on  being  in- 
troduced to  any  one  is,  'I  wonder  what  he's 
written.'  " 

"But  yet  they  are  not  all  writers,  are 
they?" 

"No,  indeed ;  there  are  painters  and  musi- 
cians among  them,  and  some  very  delight- 
ful people  who  read  and  listen.  And  here's 
one  of  the  bores,"  she  added,  as  an  over- 
dressed little  woman  passed  her  and  bowed 
conspicuously.  "That's  the  third  time  she's 
bowed  to  me  to-night :  she's  greeted  me  from 
all  over  the  room.  Do  you  know  why?  She 
wants  me  to  be  sure  to  see  her,  and  put  her 
76 


CLYDE   FITCH 

name  in  the  'amongst  those  present.'    Isn't 
she  silly?" 

Farnsworth  laughed  as  if  it  were  a  good 
joke.  He  liked  this  woman:  first,  because 
she  was  so  candid,  and  because  she  had  an 
opinion;  then,  besides,  he  liked  her  manner 
and  her  personality.  They  had  been  talking 
some  time,  during  all  of  which  she  had  stood 
beside  him,  as  tall  as  he,  and  as  straight, 
moving  her  head  well  and  keeping  her  splen- 
did figure  in  perfect  repose.  She  was  one  of 
those  few  women  who  seem  to  be  totally  un- 
conscious of  their  appearance.  She  had  not 
once  arranged  her  gown  even  surreptitious- 
ly, nor  touched  her  waist,  nor  fastened  a 
jewel,  nor  tampered  with  her  fan,  nor 
minded  her  glove. 

"Come,"  she  said,  "we  might  as  well  sit 
down;  there's  no  extra  charge,"  laughing, 
and  raising  her  eyebrows,  "and  Algernon 
Bolingbroke  is  going  to  read  some  Brown- 
ing, I  see." 

77 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

The  man  with  the  bright  tie,  of  the  group 
in  the  corner,  was  leaning  toward  Mrs. 
Hedder,  who  was  evidently  advising  him 
what  to  read. 

"Are  you  fond  of  Browning?"  asked 
Farnsworth. 

"Well,  to  be  honest,  I  don't  care  for  any 
poetry:  the  rhyme  annoys  me.  I've  always 
thought  I  should  like  Browning,  but  some- 
how I  can  never  listen;  as  soon  as  any  one 
has  commenced  reading,  a  word  or  some- 
thing in  the  poem  suggests  something  else 
personal  to  me,  and  my  thoughts  go  wan- 
dering off,  and  my  attention  is  only  attract- 
ed again  by  some  sentence  which  strikes  me 
forcibly,  I  don't  exactly  know  why." 

"Yes,  but  don't  you  think " 

"'Sh!"  motioned  Mrs.  Norris:  "he's  go- 
ing to  commence.  I  always  pretend  to  lis- 
ten, at  any  rate:  I  think  it's  brutal  not  to." 

Mr.  Algernon  Bolingbroke  stood  by  the 
piano,  slightly  against  it.  He  had  a  plain 
78 


CLYDE   FITCH 

but  strong  and  attractive  face.  A  heavy 
lock  of  straight  black  hair  fell  over  on  his 
forehead,  refusing  to  stay  in  place.  His 
long  frock-coat  fitted  him  to  perfection,  and 
his  boutonniere  was  a  cluster  of  white  tube- 
roses. He  turned  over  the  leaves  of  a  well- 
worn  book  for  a  few  moments. 

Mrs.  Hedder  remained  where  he  had  left 
her,  only  taking  a  more  intense  attitude.  She 
held  a  hot-house  rose  tightly  in  one  hand 
which  dropped  over  the  arm  of  her  chair,  in 
the  other  she  rested  her  chin,  with  her  elbow 
on  her  knee,  and,  opening  her  lips  a  little, 
remained  so,  rigidly,  through  the  whole  read- 
ing, her  eyes  fixed  straight  ahead  of  her. 
She  was  thinking  about  the  costume  she  was 
going  to  have  for  her  next  play,  and  deciding 
on  the  materials.  Most  of  the  people  in  the 
room  drew  nearer,  or  to  one  side,  until  some 
idea  of  a  semicircle  was  obtained  in  front  of 
the  reader.  The  unsuccessful  poet  leaned 
against  the  casing  of  one  of  the  windows, 
79 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

with  his  head  thrown  back,  and  gazed  at  the 
chandelier.  A  rival  reader  withdrew  into  a 
distant  corner  to  whisper  witty  criticism  and 
complimentary  innuendoes  to  Mrs.  Osprey. 
Young  Osprey  slipped  out  of  the  room  and 
through  the  front  door  into  the  street  to 
smoke  a  cigarette.  A  group  of  true  admir- 
ers of  Robert  Browning  and  appreciators 
of  Bolingbroke's  really  good  reading  were 
just  in  front.  Those  who  affected  an  ad- 
miration which  they  were  not  capable  of  feel- 
ing were  withdrawn  discreetly  a  little  out- 
side the  circle,  where  they  could  watch  the 
other  people  in  the  room.  The  successful 
new  novelist  and  several  others  who  had  been 
having  a  very  jolly  time,  and  who  never 
cared  for  readings  of  any  sort,  showed  their 
gentle  breeding,  like  Mrs.  Norris,  by  good- 
naturedly  preparing  themselves  to  listen. 
Mrs.  Van  Ostrand  found  a  retired  place  be- 
hind the  piano,  where  she  leaned  back  in  a 
lounging-chair  and  closed  her  eyes;  she 
80 


CLYDE   FITCH 

would  be  quite  rested  at  the  end  of  the  poem 
to  go  on  to  Mrs.  Steering's.  The  small 
elderly  poetess  whose  volume  had  not  yet 
appeared  sat  inside  the  semicircle,  close  to 
Bolingbroke,  because  she  was  quite  deaf, 
and,  as  it  was,  only  caught  a  word  now  and 
then.  Weldon  sat  in  one  window-seat,  un- 
consciously looking  at  his  hands.  Madge 
sat  in  another  with  Captain  Galloway, 
watching  Weldon.  Mr.  Roscommon  had 
just  told  Rita,  with  a  gesture,  that  he  would 
finish  what  he  was  explaining  after  the  read- 
ing. Poor  Rita  commenced  to  look  as  if  her 
head  wrere  aching. 

Farnsworth  could  not  allow  it  any  longer. 

"Do  you  know,"  he  said,  "it's  a  shame  for 
Miss  Synnett  to  be  sacrificed  to  that  man? 
Can't  we  rescue  her  from  him?" 

"Yes,"  answered  Mrs.  Norris.  "I'll  go 
over  with  you.  You  take  Rita  off,  and  leave 
me  for  Roscommon.  I  mean  it,"  she  said: 
"it  won't  make  any  difference  to  me  whom 

Si 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

I  am  with  during  the  reading,  and  for  a  little 
while  after  that  he'll  amuse  me:  he  always 
does.  He  says  every  one  has  only  three 
bones,  or  something  like  that;  I  never  do 
quite  understand  exactly  what  his  theory  is, 
but  it's  something  funny,  and  I  pretend  to 
get  converted  to  it  every  time  we  talk  to- 
gether. Then  I  can  always  get  rid  of  him, 
and  that  seraph  never  could." 

"You're  an  angel  of  mercy,"  he  said  in  a 
mockingly  empressee  manner. 

"Never,"  she  answered.  "I'm  too  old." 
Rita  fairty  beamed  upon  them.  Farns- 
worth  felt  guilty  that  he  had  not  come  be- 
fore. How  exquisitely  pretty  she  was !  She 
was  a  seraph;  she  was  one  of  the  very  few 
people  he  could  remember  having  seen  to 
whom  the  stereotyped  garb  and  conventional 
employment  of  the  generally  accepted  angel 
would  have  been  becoming.  Madge  once 
said,  in  the  impressive  way  she  had,  "You 
might  do  anything  you  could  think  of  to 

82 


CLYDE   FITCH 

Rita,  but  you  could  never  make  her  look 
flat." 

Mr.  Bolingbroke  had  the  good  sense,  in 
so  mixed  an  assembly,  to  give  one  of  the 
very  short  poems ;  it  was  a  tragic  one,  which 
ended  abruptly,  and  one  of  the  ladies  in  the 
outer  circle,  who  had  happened  to  listen,  for- 
got herself  and  asked  rather  loudly  if  he 
wasn't  going  to  read  the  rest  of  it.  The 
unappreciated  poet,  with  his  eyes  still  fast- 
ened upon  an  artificial  candle- jet  of  gas, 
thought  how  he  would  have  ended  the  same 
poem.  The  rather  deaf  poetess  said  noth- 
ing; for  she  thought  he  hadn't  begun  yet. 
Mrs.  Hedder  simply  sighed  very  expressive- 
ly, and  altered  her  position ;  she  had  decided 
she  could  manage  to  wear  four  gowns  in 
three  acts  by  changing  the  order  of  two  of 
the  scenes,  which  did  not  affect  her  part  in 
the  least.  But  Mrs.  Hedder's  wealthy 
friend,  the  lady  who  attended  all  the  Brown- 
ing readings,  murmured  "Sweet!"  Mrs. 

83 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

Van  Ostrand  opened  her  eyes  slowly  and 
asked  who  was  singing,  and  was  very  glad 
nobody  heard  her.  Mrs.  Norris,  looking  at 
Mr.  Roscommon,  said  it  was  entirely  too 
short — which  emboldened  Mrs.  Synnett, 
buttressed  by  the  Browningites  and  politely 
seconded  by  the  successful  novelist  and  her 
clique,  to  beg  for  another  selection.  Accord- 
ingly, after  the  necessary  amount  of  becom- 
ing hesitation,  Bolingbroke,  thinking  to 
meet  his  audience  better,  recited  "From 
Ghent  to  Aix,"  with  not  a  little  spirit.  Wei- 
don  joined  heartily  in  the  applause  which 
followed  it,  and  several  others  looked  pleased 
to  have  heard  something  familiar  to  them. 
Mrs.  Osprey  exclaimed  that  she  had  heard 
that  before — was  that  Browning,  too?  She 
was  so  fond  of  Browning!  She  had  heard 
"Aurora  Leigh"  read  beautifully  once. 

While  Mrs.  Synnett  was  shaking  Boling- 
broke's  hand  and  thanking  him,  and  the 
Browningites  were  crowding  around,  the 

84 


CLYDE    FITCH 

rest  of  the  company  changed  about.  Mrs. 
Norris  told  Mr.  Roscommon  really  she 
should  think  over  quite  seriously  what  he  had 
just  been  saying,  as  she  allowed  Captain 
Galloway  to  drag  her  away  from  the  physio- 
logical discussion.  Weldon  had  joined 
Madge,  and  Farnsworth  and  Rita  had  made 
themselves  comfortable  in  his  window-seat. 
Rita  said  she  ought  to  go  and  help  pour  the 
tea,  but  Farnsworth  said  he  would  not  allow 
her  to,  that  she  had  done  too  much  for  the 
guests  already;  and  she  remained  where  she 
was,  only  too  happy  to  be  commanded  to  do 
anything  by  him.  Farnsworth  could  not  but 
notice  her  pleasure  at  being  with  him,  but  he 
accepted  it  without  question.  Her  manner 
had  completely  changed.  She  was  full  of 
annimation  and  good  spirits.  She  confessed 
she  had  heard  scarcely  a  word  of  what  that 
dreadful  Mr.  Roscommon  had  been  talking 
about:  she  was  watching  Madge  and  him 
all  the  time. 

85 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

"What  were  you  talking  about?"  she 
asked.  Her  eyes  never  wandered  from  his 
face  when  he  spoke  to  her;  she  thought  it 
was  because  he  had  so  much  expression. 

"Your  sister  was  telling  me  who  the  peo- 
ple are,"  he  said,  smiling  at  her.  She  smiled 
back. 

"No  wonder  you  were  laughing.  Isn't 
Madge  bright  ?"  She  looked  away  from  him, 
just  for  a  moment,  toward  her  sister  affec- 
tionately. "I'm  so  glad  you're  all  right. 
You  know  there  was  a  sort  of  coolness." 

"There  was  a  something.  She  certainly 
did  not  like  me  at  first.  She  says  she  told 
you  that  night,  after  dinner,  that  I  was  a 
flirt." 

"Yes,  she  did.  Are  you?"  She  asked  it 
half  seriously. 

"Not  guilty,  your  ladyship." 

"Gentlemen  of  the  jury,  the  prisoner  is 
dismissed." 

86 


CLYDE   FITCH 

"But  you  ought  to  define  the  charge. 
What  is  flirting?"  asked  Farnsworth. 

"Oh,"  replied  Rita,  sitting  up  very 
straight,  and  with  a  funny  imitation,  in 
miniature,  of  one  of  Mr.  Roscommon's 
sweeping  gestures,  "flirting  is — flirting  is  a 
game,"  she  lapsed  back  into  her  natural  man- 
ner, "which  two  people  play  at,  both  mu- 
tually pretending  an  especial  interest,  and 
neither  one  believing  in  himself  or  in  the 
other." 

"If  they  are  both  on  their  guard,  and 
know  the  rules  of  the  game,  there  isn't  much 
harm  done,  I  suppose,"  said  Farnsworth, 
"except  that  after  a  time  they  won't  be  able 
to  tell  the  real  interest  from  the  feigned  one, 
and  then  they  lose  the  former  and  the  latter 
is  nothing  to  gain." 

"Sometimes  it  does  happen  that  one  is  not 
as  experienced  as  the  other,  and  makes  a  mis- 
take and  gets  in  earnest." 

8? 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

"Yes,  and  then  we  cannot  but  blame 

Ah !  your  sister  is  going  to  play." 

"Oh,  dear!"  said  Rita  anxiously:  "don't 
forget  where  you  left  off,  will  you?" 

Madge  looked  at  Farnsworth  as  she  took 
up  her  violin.  She  saw  him  stop  talking  in- 
stantly and  lean  back  to  listen.  It  pleased 
her.  For  a  moment  she  thought  she  would 
ask  him  to  play  her  accompaniment,  but  she 
saw  Rita,  and,  after  a  second's  hesitation, 
asked  the  young  pianiste  instead.  The  latter 
accompanied  willingly  and  well.  Madge 
played  even  better  than  usual.  Everybody 
listened.  Farns worth's  thoughts  wandered 
off  to  the  country  home  of  his  boyhood.  He 
thought  of  the  beautiful  rolling  fields  his 
mother  used  to  take  him  walking  over;  he 
could  see  her  now,  and  feel  the  touch  of  her 
hand,  and  hear  the  low  murmur  of  her  sweet 
voice  as  she  talked  to  him  of  his  father.  He 
could  see  the  soft,  gray  clouds  drifting  over 
their  heads,  and  again  they  passed  through 

88 


CLYDE   FITCH 

the  wicker  gate  that  made  an  opening  in  the 
delicious  thick  green  hedges  which  bounded 
their  garden.  Rita,  half  hidden  in  the  win- 
dow-seat, wondered  of  whom  he  was  think- 
ing. 

When  Madge  finished  she  glanced  once 
more  toward  Farnsworth.  The  room  was 
perfectly  quiet;  it  was  often  the  way  when 
Madge  played :  people  were  so  touched  they 
were  afraid  to  applaud  her :  the  petty  clatter 
of  a  few  hands  would  be  belittling  of  the 
music.  She  refused  to  play  again,  but  final- 
ly, as  they  were  persistent  in  their  begging, 
she  took  up  her  bow,  and,  with  a  character- 
istic perverseness,  played  a  lively,  fickle 
Polish  dance,  that  made  every  one  start  sud- 
denly and  blink  their  eyes  like  people 
aroused  out  of  a  mesmeric  sleep.  Farns- 
worth had  not  finished  wondering  when  she 
stopped.  Every  one  laughed,  and  clapped 
their  hands,  and  said  the  usual  things;  but 

89 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

Farnsworth  turned  to  Rita  with  something 
like  relief. 

"What  did  she  do  that  for?"  he  asked. 

"I  don't  know,"  she  answered.  "It  was 
just  like  Madge." 

The  young  pianiste  was  playing  some- 
thing, and  those  near  the  piano  listened. 
Madge  turned  over  the  leaves  for  her.  Once 
in  a  while  Rita  and  Farnsworth  exchanged 
a  word.  When  the  piece  was  finished  there 
were  some  well-meant  applause  and  some 
appropriate  exclamations,  while  Mrs.  Syn- 
nett  asked  for  something  else,  and  accepted, 
rather  quickly,  a  graceful  refusal. 

Madge  joined  the  two  in  the  window-seat 
for  a  moment. 

"Mrs.  Hedder  is  going  to  recite,"  she  said. 
"I'm  frightened  to  death,  because  Douglas 
always  laughs  at  her.  He  asked  me  to  open 
the  window:  he  said  he  smelt  already  that 
'jasmine  flower.' '  Madge  passed  on  to 
some  others. 

90 


CLYDE   FITCH 

"She  always  recites  'Aux  Italiens,'  "  ex- 
plained Rita.  But  they  were  disappointed; 
for  this  time  Mrs.  Hedder  recited  something 
else.  She  stood  behind,  but  at  a  distance 
from,  her  chair,  as  if  it  gave  her  a  kind  of 
moral  support,  and  recited  a  fairly  dramatic, 
not  very  original  poem  by  Algernon  Boling- 
broke,  with  more  gesture  than  feeling.  She 
finished,  after  being  twice  kindly  prompted 
by  Bolingbroke  from  memory,  amidst  loud 
applause,  and  several  requests  of  the  author 
for  copies. 

Farnsworth  and  Rita  then  went  on  with 
their  conversation.  They  indulged  in  mu- 
tual confidences  about  their  childhood.  They 
compared  their  youthful  likes  and  dislikes, 
finding  pleasure  in  similarities  and  matter 
for  surprise  in  differences.  They  were  both 
comfortable  and  happy,  unconscious  for  a 
time  of  their  somewhat  uncongenial  sur- 
roundings. Somebody  did  something  else, 
they  did  not  know  what;  their  voices  were 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

subdued,  and  back  in  the  recess  disturbed 
no  one. 

"I  don't  know  why  it  is,"  said  Farnsworth, 
''but  I  seem  to  talk  differently  to  you  than 
I  do  to  most  other  people.  I  seem  to  speak 
more  of  real  things.  And  I  remember  aft- 
erward what  we  talk  about." 

"I'm  glad,"  was  all  Rita  said.  She  wanted 
to  say  more,  but  she  did  not  know  what. 

"We've  known  each  other  two  months 
now,  haven't  we?"  asked  Farnsworth. 

"Not  quite;  one  month  and  three  weeks 
yesterday,"  she  said,  and  then  wondered  if 
she  ought  to  have  let  him  know  she  remem- 
bered it  so  exactly. 

"Do  you  know,  I've  worked  much  better 
— more  evenly — since  then?  You've  helped 
me  a  great  deal." 

"I  don't  see  how  I  can  have,"  said  Rita 
modestly,  "but  it's  good  of  you  to  say  so." 

'  'Shi"  said  somebody,  coming  up  to  the 
92 


CLYDE    FITCH 

window,  really  only  to  see  who  were  there: 
"Mrs.  Jo^ies-Robbins  is  going  to  sing." 

"Oh,  dear!"  thought  Rita:  "it  was  so  nice 
just  talking!" 

Mrs.  Jones-Robbins  had  a  beautiful  voice. 
She  was  the  soprano  in  one  of  the  swellest 
churches  in  town,  and  could  always  be  count- 
ed on  to  attract  at  least  one-half  of  the  con- 
gregation. It  was  a  great  compliment  to 
Mrs.  Synnett  that  she  sang  for  her,  for  she 
seldom  sang  now  in  private  houses ;  but  Mrs. 
Synnett  had  obtained  for  her  her  first  hear- 
ing when  she  came  from  Vermont  to  New 
York,  plain  Miss  Jones,  with  a  voice  like  a 
bird's,  only  not  so  well  trained.  That  was 
years  ago.  She  had  studied  abroad,  and 
married,  and  been  divorced  since  then.  She 
sang  two  German  songs  and  a  French  song, 
and  after  she  had  finished  people  commenced 
to  go — Mrs.  Osprey,  wrapped  in  an  opera- 
cloak  trimmed  with  swan's-down,  under  the 
protection  of  young  Osprey,  who  had  been 
93 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

yawning  violently  for  the  last  half  hour, 
among  the  first.  The  rest  dawdled  over  their 
departure,  as  visitors  will,  half  of  them  say- 
ing either  too  much  or  the  wrong  thing.  But 
finally  the  last  carriage  door  was  slammed, 
and  the  front  door  gentlier  after  it,  and  the 
Synnetts  and  Weldon  and  Farnsworth  were 
left  behind.  The  men,  with  tact  due  to 
Farnsworth,  took  their  departure  almost  im- 
mediately. 

"Didn't  Mrs.  Jones-Robbins  sing  well?" 
asked  Mrs.  Synnett. 

"But  has  the  jasmine  flower  faded  for 
good?"  asked  Weldon. 

"Don't!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Synnett.  "What 
do  you  think  she  told  me? — she  is  going  to 
play  Pauline  in  'The  Lady  of  Lyons'  at 
the  Lyceum  after  Christmas.  She  asked  to 
put  me  down  among  the  patronesses." 

"Mrs.  Norris  is  a  delightful  woman,"  said 
Farnsworth. 

94 


CLYDE   FITCH 

"I  knew  you'd  like  her,"  said  Madge.  Rita 
said  nothing:  she  stood  by,  listening. 

The  men  bade  them  all  good-night. 

"Tuesday  is  my  birthday,"  said  Weldon 
to  Madge. 

"I  have  not  forgotten,"  she  replied,  look- 
ing him  in  the  face  earnestly,  but  with  eyes 
that  kept  their  own  counsel. 

Weldon  made  some  remark  to  Rita. 

"Good-night,"  said  Farnsworth,  coming 
up  to  her.  "I  shall  not  forget  the  definition 
of  flirting.  I'm  going  to  put  it  in  the  novel." 

She  thought  he  ended  the  evening  flip- 
pantly. She  was  sorry,  and  went  upstairs 
rather  sobered. 

He  shook  Madge's  hand,  but  they  said 
nothing. 

Then  the  two  men  walked  down  the  street 
in  silence  to  the  corner,  where  they  separated. 


95 


CHAPTER  IV 

FARNSWORTH  worked  hard  all  Mon- 
day on  his  novel.  At  first  his  ideas 
came  not  at  all  spontaneously,  and  writing 
was  very  tedious ;  but  the  noon  post  brought 
him  a  note  from  Rita  Synnett,  asking  him 
to  go  with  them  to  a  ball-game  the  next  day. 
She  said  the  Yale  Alumni  were  going  to 
play  against  the  Harvard  Alumni;  some  of 
them  were  professionals,  and  they  all  were 
picked  players,  Weldon  among  them,  who 
was  going  to  pitch  for  his  side — which  was 
the  principal  reason  for  their  wishing  to 

g°- 

Farnsworth  sent  off  a  reply  thanking  her, 
and  saying  he  would  join  them  to-morrow 
at  two,  and  quoted  a  passage  from  his  manu- 
script which  he  liked,  for  he  knew  Rita  al- 
96 


CLYDE   FITCH 

ways  sympathized  with  his  exclamation 
points.  Then  he  went  back  to  his  writing. 
He  found  ideas  crowding  on  him  now,  and 
wrote  as  rapidly  as  his  fingers  would  move 
the  pen,  and  most  satisfactorily.  It  was  so 
pleasant  to  have  something  in  anticipation 
to  think  of  when  he  wanted  to  rest  his  mind 
for  a  moment.  And  the  fact  of  even  so  small 
a  proof  that  others  had  thought  of  him  gave 
him  new  spirit  and  encouraged  him  in  his 
work.  There  are  some  natures  who  crave 
being  in  mind  when  out  of  sight.  Farns- 
worth  was  one  of  these.  Nothing  made  life 
more  worth  the  living  to  him  than  little 
proofs,  no  matter  how  insignificant,  that 
others  had  him  in  their  thoughts.  It  was 
only  another  form  of  his  longing  for  sym- 
pathy. And  it  did  not  interfere  with  his 
fondness  for  solitude:  he  often  liked  to  be 
alone. 

During  the  evening,  once,  seeing  Rita's 
letter  as  it  lay  on  the  desk  among  his  scat- 
97 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

tered  papers,  the  thought  flashed  across  his 
mind  what  life  might  be  with  such  a  woman 
as  she  always  by  him.  How  one  could  write 
with  the  encouragement  of  a  constant  pres- 
ence so  sweet  as  hers!  how  one  might  over- 
come those  periodical  despairings  of  one's 
existence,  with  so  hopeful  a  heart  as  hers 
beating  against  one's  own!  Life  would  be 
purer  and  larger;  work  for  and  care  of  such 
a  woman  would  be  one  of  those  blessed  privi- 
leges which  elevate  one's  life  past  even  one's 
own  high  aims. 

"But  of  Rita  Synnett  I  am  not  worthy," 
he  said,  with  that  self-abasement  which  char- 
acterized certain  of  his  moods.  No  one  knew 
and  despised  his  own  weaknesses  more  than 
Cyril  Farnsworth,  and  no  one,  perhaps,  took 
fewer  pains  to  overcome  them.  "Of  Rita 
Synnett  I  am  not  worthy.  »Love  should 
flood  her  life  with  the  glad  sun  of  noonday : 
the  love  of  a  man  like  me  would  only  mean 
the  paler  light  of  the  twilight  moon,  over 
98 


CLYDE   FITCH 

whose  face  too  many  clouds  are  often  pass- 
ing. I  will  not  think  of  love  and  her;  I  will 
not  break  the  friendship  which  now  means 
peace  and  happiness  to  me.  She  gives  me 
this:  why  think  of  asking  more — more  than 
she  would  likely  give,  more  than  I,  God 
knows,  deserve?  What  have  I  to  offer  her? 
Only  prospects !  It  would  be  cruel  indeed  to 
yoke  her  to  me  under  the  burden  of  a  career 
like  mine,  which  is  only  begun;  to  ask  her 
to  share  all  the  disappointments,  the  sacri- 
fices; to  offer  her  'Grub  Street'  in  place  of 
her  own  luxurious  home.  It  is  madness.  I 
will  not  think  of  it." 

And  so  he  reasoned  with  himself,  and  a 
great  and  pure  love,  which  does  not  come 
to  every  one,  which  had  sent  forth  its  first 
shoot  in  this  man's  heart,  was  pruned  to 
the  roots.  It  could  not  flower  now,  but  it 
was  gaining  strength  to  blossom  all  the 
larger  and  more  beautiful  when  its  time 
should  come  again,  if  it  did  not  die  mean- 
99 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

while  of  starvation  or  neglect,  or  be  choked 
by  those  weeds  of  passion  which  grow 
quickly,  and  whose  blossom  too  is  bright, 
but  whose  flower  the  bee  would  shun,  for  its 
honey  is  poison. 

"I  must  be  wedded  to  my  work,"  Farns- 
worth  said.  He  had  taken  Rita's  letter  up 
in  his  hands ;  he  slipped  it  between  the  leaves 
of  a  volume  of  Keats  by  his  elbow,  and,  after 
walking  up  and  down  the  room  a  few  times, 
settled  himself  again  at  his  desk. 

That  is  the  way  a  man  has.  He  decides 
it  is  to  be  friendship  and  not  love,  and  then 
he  walks  up  and  down  his  room  a  few  times, 
with  his  hands  behind  his  back.  But  the 
woman — she  has  to  sit  still.  It  is  not  for  her 
to  choose  which  it  shall  be.  She  does  not 
pace  up  and  down  her  room,  and  her  hands 
lie  empty  in  her  lap. 

Farnsworth  was  late  the  next  day,  and 
they  were  ready  and  waiting  when  he  ar- 
rived.   Madge  said  it  was  just  like  him. 
100 


CLYDE   FITCH 

"Oh,  you  literary  men!"  she  laughed;  "y°u 
poets!" 

He  brought  them  all  flowers — a  bunch  of 
mignonette  for  Mrs.  Synnett,  who  put  them 
in  a  bowl  for  the  table,  a  heavy  damask 
rose  for  Madge,  and  a  bunch  of  white 
and  blue  violets  for  Rita.  He  was 
especially  kind  to  Rita,  and  walked  by  her 
side  down  the  street.  This  left  Madge  for 
her  mother,  and  Madge  was  not  good  com- 
pany. Somehow  or  other,  it  annoyed  her, 
although  she  was  ashamed  of  it,  to  see  Rita 
and  Farnsworth  together  ahead  and  talking 
so  earnestly  as  they  were. 

"I  think  we're  rather  de  trop"  she  said  to 
Mrs.  Synnett. 

"Dear  me !"  said  the  latter,  "I  do  hope  we 
are.  How  nice  he  is!  And  I  was  wonder- 
ing what  we  should  do  for  flowers  at  dinner 
to-night." 

It  was  Weldon's  birthday,  and  Madge  had 
promised  to  give  him  his  answer  that  day, 
101 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

and  she  must  keep  her  promise.  The  day 
was  going,  but  so  far  she  had  decided  and 
undecided  until  she  was  half  distracted.  She 
wanted  to  say  yes,  but  she  was  afraid  to — 
more  afraid  than  she  had  been  a  week  be- 
fore. Why?  She  would  not  answer  the 
question  even  to  herself.  She  would  keep 
close  to  the  others,  or  rather  close  to  her 
mother,  all  the  time,  and  he  could  not  ask 
her  then,  and  perhaps  something  would  pre- 
vent his  coming  in  the  evening.  She  would 
put  it  off  as  long  as  she  could. 

"Oh!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Synnett  fretfully, 
"there's  one  of  the  jet  ornaments  off  my 
coat  here  in  front!  Madge,  let  me  wear 
your  rose :  it  will  cover  it  nicely." 

Madge  did  not  answer  immediately. 
When  she  did,  she  said — 

"Can't  you  pin  it  on,  or  something?" 

"No,  I  can't:  I've  lost  it,"  said  Mrs.  Syn- 
nett. "Never  mind:  if  you  can't  spare  your 
rose,  I'll  ask  Rita  for  some  of  her  violets." 
102 


CLYDE    FITCH 

She  started  to  catch  up  with  the  couple 
ahead.  Madge  followed  slowly.  "Poor 
Rita!"  she  thought;  "I  know  what  those 
violets  are  to  her,  and  she'll  do  it — but  she 
shan't." 

"Mamma,"  she  said,  taking  hold  of  her 
arm,  "I'd  rather  you  took  the  rose.  I  don't 
know  that  it  makes  any  difference,  after  all." 
And  she  gave  it  to  her. 

"Thank  you,  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Synnett 
complacently. 

"I  am  decided,"  Madge  was  thinking  to 
herself.  "He's  a  splendid,  good  fellow.  I 
will  say  yes."  And  she  began  a  lively  one- 
sided conversation  with  her  mother. 

The  Athletic  grounds  were  crowded.  A 
brilliant  array  of  coaches  and  turnouts  were 
there,  with  an  equal  display  of  crimson  and 
blue.  Weldon  had  secured  good  seats  ahead 
for  his  party,  and  they  were  shown  imme- 
diately to  them,  in  the  midst  of  a  crowd  of 
people  wearing  the  colors  of  Weldon's  Alma 
103 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

Mater.  They  stood  for  a  few  moments  talk- 
ing with  some  friends  near  them  before  the 
game  was  called.  Farnsworth  and  Madge 
found  themselves  together.  She  saw  he  no- 
ticed that  her  rose  was  gone.  The  spirit  of 
coquetry  took  possession  of  her.  There  was 
a  sort  of  nonchalant  air  about  Farnsworth 
that  piqued  her. 

"Well?"  she  asked,  raising  her  eyebrows. 

"What  have  you  done  with  it?"  asked 
Farnsworth,  knowing  she  knew  what  he 
meant. 

"Why?"  asked  Madge.  It  pleased  her 
that  he  noticed  the  rose  was  gone ;  it  pleased 
her  more  than  from  his  manner  he  seemed 
to  care. 

"Why?"  repeated  Farnsworth.  "I  don't 
know  why,  except  that  I  gave  it  to  you  and 
would  have  liked  you  to  have  worn  it — at 
least  to  have  kept  it." 

"I'm  sorry,"  answered  Madge.  "Really 
I  hated  to  give  it  up,  you  don't  know  how 
104 


CLYDE   FITCH 

much,  but  mamma  wanted  it  to — to — well, 
to  cover  an  emergency ;  and  I  gave  it  to  her, 
rather  unwillingly.  I  thought  you  wouldn't 
mind,  but  I  am  glad  that  you  do."  She 
added  this  in  a  slightly-lowered  tone. 

Farnsworth  looked  toward  Mrs.  Synnett, 
and  saw  the  rose.  He  laughed. 

"Oh,  I  understand,"  he  said,  "and  I  don't 
mind,  really." 

But  Madge  believed  that  he  did. 

The  game  was  called,  and  they  all  sat 
down.  Mrs.  Synnett  asked  Madge  a  ques- 
tion about  the  playing,  but  she  did  not  an- 
swer. Madge  was  thinking  again,  and  her 
decision  again  wavered.  She  hoped  now  for 
the  second  time  that  Douglas  would  not 
come  in  that  evening.  Then  she  shook  her- 
self mentally,  and  resolved  to  watch  the 
playing. 

The  two  nines  were  most  evenly  matched, 
and  the  game  promised  to  be  an  exciting  one. 
Time  was  called  for  some  reason  or  other 
105 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

during  the  first  inning,  and  Weldon  came 
toward  Madge.  Mrs.  Synnett,  who  never 
had  mastered  the  game  of  baseball,  asked 
who  had  beaten,  and  was  surprised  to  hear 
that  they  had  only  just  commenced. 

Weldon  looked  very  handsome  in  his 
knickerbockers  and  loose  jersey,  his  tanned 
throat  bare,  and  his  curly  golden  hair  tossed 
about  and  shining  almost  like  metal  in  the 
sun.  As  he  stood  there,  Madge  could  not 
but  admire  him,  he  seemed  such  a  perfect 
type  of  physical  manhood;  his  figure  was 
worthy  of  a  Grecian  frieze,  and  his  forehead 
might  have  worn  an  Olympic  laurel. 

"Do  you  want  to  make  a  bet,  Madge?" 
he  asked;  "half  a  dozen  pair  of  gloves  to  a 
box  of  Turkish  cigarettes?" 

Madge  laughed,  and  said — 

"That's  about  as  even  as  a  girl  usually 
bets.  I'll  take  you;  but  I  intend  to  win." 

"So  do  I,"  said  Weldon— "everything  I 
106 


CLYDE    FITCH 

fight  for.  Madge,  you  always  pay  your 
debts?" 

"Yes,  if  they're  cigarettes." 

"But  you  know  it  isn't  the  ball-game  only 
that  I  want  to  win  to-day,  and  if  you  lose 
you  needn't  give  me  the  cigarettes  if  you'd 
rather  give  me  something  else  I  want  more." 

"Do  you  really  want — this — other — more 
than  your  cigarettes,  Douglas?"  Madge 
asked,  with  some  cynicism. 

"I  can't  do  without  either,"  he  answered, 
laughing,  as  he  went  back  to  the  field. 

Mrs.  Synnett  stopped  him  on  the  way: 

"Why  does  that  man  behind  the  man  with 
the  bat  say  'one  strike,'  or  'two  strikes/  when 
the  batter  doesn't  strike  at  all?" 

Weldon  explained: 

"Because  the  pitcher  pitched  a  good  ball, 
and  the  batter  ought  to  have  struck  at  it. 
A  batter  is  only  allowed  the  chance  to  strike 
at  three  good  balls.  When  they  are  not  good 
balls — that  is,  when  they  are  not  sent  over 
107 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

the  base,  and  high  or  low  as  the  batter  wants 
them — they  count  against  the  pitcher,  and 
are  simply  called  'balls.'  When  they  are 
good  balls,  they  are  called  'strikes/  whether 
the  batter  hits  them  or  not." 

"Oh!"  said  Mrs.  Synnett,  who  didn't  quite 
understand  yet,  but  thought  it  wiser  not  to 
say  so.  "It's  so  interesting.  I  do  love  a  base- 
ball game."  When  he  had  gone  she  turned 
to  Madge: 

"Why  don't  they  let  the  batters  strike  at 
the  ball  till  they  do  hit  it?  I  should  think 
it  would  be  fairer.  And  how  many  of  these 
innings  are  there,  anyway?" 

"Nine,  usually,"  Madge  answered;  "but 
if  the  score  is  tied  at  the  ninth  they  play  on 
till  one  side  gets  ahead." 

"Of  course,"  said  Mrs.  Synnett,  "one  side 
always  does  beat,  doesn't  it?" 

Apropos  of  baseball  there  are  two  kinds 
of  women — the  woman  who  doesn't  under- 
stand it  at  all,  but  watches  it,  like  a  person 
1 08 


CLYDE   FITCH 

with  no  ear  for  music  who  goes  to  the  opera 
because  other  people  do,  and  because  the 
mise-en-scene  is  generally  pleasing;  and  the 
woman  who  understands  it  herself  but  can- 
not explain  it  to  any  one  else;  if  she  tries 
to  she  muddles  hopelessly  not  only  her  lis- 
teners but  herself  besides. 

Rita  was  a  cross  between  the  two.  A 
great  difficulty  with  her  thorough  under- 
standing was  that,  no  matter  how  prejudiced 
she  might  be  in  favor  of  one  nine,  her  sym- 
pathies always  carried  her  off  to  the  side  of 
the  one  being  defeated.  In  the  course  of  a 
hotly-contested  game  this  was  apt  to  be  con- 
fusing. She  found,  however,  on  this  occa- 
sion that  her  great  friendship  for  Weldon 
rather  kept  her  interests  on  his  side  alto- 
gether; and  perhaps  the  fact  of  Farnsworth 
being  an  excited  upholder  of  the  same  nine 
had  also  something  to  do  with  this. 

It  was  a  magnificently  played  game.    The 
enthusiasm  was  tremendous,  the  'rahs  and 
109 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

shouts  scarcely  dying  away  for  a  moment. 
At  the  end  of  the  eighth  inning  the  score  was 
tied. 

At  the  beginning  of  the  ninth  Weldon's 
nine  was  at  the  bat.  Two  men  had  been 
struck  out.  O'Donnohue,  of  the  Buffaloes, 
was  the  next  batter:  it  was  their  chance  to 
get  ahead.  Weldon  stood  near  to  "coach," 
and  they  had  a  man  on  third  base.  One 
strike  and  three  balls  had  been  called.  A  ball 
flew  toward  the  home-plate,  was  hit  by 
O'Donnohue,  and  tore  along  the  ground,  a 
hot  liner  between  first  and  second  base. 
Second  base  fumbled  it,  and  then  threw  it 
to  the  catcher. 

The  man  on  third  base  had  started  run- 
ning toward  the  home-plate.  Farnsworth 
stood  up  in  his  seat,  a  great  mass  of  people 
swayed  forward  from  one  side,  as  the  run- 
ner dropped  and  slid  on  to  the  plate  just 
before  the  catcher  touched  him  with  the  ball. 

Such  a  shout!  such  a  waving  mass  of  flags 
no 


CLYDE   FITCH 

and  streamers!  The  grandstand  shook,  and 
the  coaches  trembled  on  their  springs !  Then 
every  one  stopped,  saving  their  strength  for 
the  finish.  It  was  the  middle  of  the  ninth 
inning,  and  Weldon's  nine  was  one  ahead. 

Mrs.  Synnett  opened  her  eyes.  She  had 
shut  them  when  the  runner  dropped. 

"Is  he  dead?"  she  asked. 

"No,"  said  Madge,  "but  the  other  side 
is."  She  had  fully  caught  the  enthusiasm  of 
the  moment.  Weldon  had  been  playing 
splendidly,  and  pitching  for  his  nine  almost 
better  than  his  opponents'  man,  who  was  a 
professional.  He  had  looked  heroic  in  the 
pitcher's  box,  with  all  those  other  strong  men 
watching  him  almost  breathlessly  and  de- 
pending on  him  for  what  seemed  their  life 
or  death. 

He  glanced  at  Madge  now,  and  flung  his 
cap  up  in  the  air,  and  she  waved  her  hand- 
kerchief and  a  bit  of  ribbon  he  had  given  her 
back  to  him.  Some  people  behind  her  were 
in 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

saying  how  handsome  he  was,  and  she  felt  a 
sense  of  grateful  pride  that  this  man  loved 
her. 

The  score  stood  three  to  four  in  favor  of 
Weldon's  nine. 

He  took  his  position  again  in  the  pitcher's 
box,  calm  and  possessed  as  a  statue.  If  he 
could  keep  the  other  nine  from  making  a 
run,  the  game  was  his.  An  unnatural  quiet 
fell  on  the  crowd.  There  was  something  in- 
tense in  the  pitch  of  excitement. 

Weldon  looked  around  at  his  men  and 
nodded  encouragingly :  he  smiled  at  the  short 
stop,  a  nervous  little  fellow  who  could  not 
keep  still. 

"Play!"  sang  out  the  umpire. 

Something  seemed  to  tighten  everybody's 
nerves.  Bodies  were  bent  forward,  eyes  were 
strained,  and  hands  were  clinched  tight. 

Martin,  a  member  of  the  Chicagoes,  was 
at  the  bat. 

"One  strike." 

112 


CLYDE   FITCH 

"Foul." 

"Counts  for  nothing,"  said  Madge,  aloud, 
for  her  mother's  benefit. 

A  little  bare  footed  ragamuffin  dropped 
over  the  fence  and  threw  the  ball  back  into 
the  field. 

"Ball  one." 

"Ball  two." 

"  'Fraid  Weldon's  giving  out,"  said  some 
one  behind  Madge. 

"No,  he  isn't!"  she  exclaimed,  looking 
around,  forgetting  herself  in  her  excitement. 

Then  Martin  struck  the  ball  hard.  The 
crowd  on  the  stand  rose  en  masse,  as  the 
"center  field,"  running  backward,  caught 
the  ball  neatly  with  his  hands  up  over  his 
head,  but  stumbled  and  dropped  it,  and 
Martin  had  his  base. 

The  audience  was  silent  still.  Yale  and 
Harvard  hearts  thumped  too  thick  for  ut- 
terance yet.  The  crimson  and  the  blue  flut- 
tered softly  in  the  breeze. 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

The  rival  pitcher  came  to  the  bat.  Wei- 
don  threw  the  ball  to  first  base,  and  almost 
before  it  touched  his  hands  back  again  had 
it  over  the  home-plate.  The  next  ball  the 
rival  pitcher  sent  away  over  the  head  of  the 
left  fielder,  and  took  his  base,  and  managed 
to  steal  second,  while  Martin  ran  to  third. 

"Look  at  him!  look  at  him!"  shrieked  Mrs. 
Synnett  excitedly:  "he's  going  to  that  other 
bag.  Why  doesn't  somebody  stop  him!" 
People  were  too  interested  even  to  laugh. 

The  first  ball  pitched  to  the  next  batter 
was  hit  with  a  ring,  and  came  straight  and 
hard  as  a  rock  back  into  the  pitcher's  box. 
There  was  an  indescribable  sound,  which  was 
felt  rather  than  heard,  as  the  ball  struck 
Weldon,  who  swayed  and  fell. 

"Time!"  shouted  the  umpire,  running  up, 
and  the  men  from  the  two  nines  crowded 
around. 

Madge  turned  deathly  pale,  and  her  lips 
blue.  She  looked  as  if  she  were  going  to 
114 


CLYDE   FITCH 

faint.  Mrs.  Synnett,  who  of  course  was 
never  without  a  vinaigrette,  slipped  a  fash- 
ionable, somewhat  useless  one  into  Madge's 
hand ;  Madge  covered  it  up  with  a  handker- 
chief, and  used  it,  and  seemed  a  little  helped, 
but  she  leaned  heavily  against  her  mother. 

"Why  doesn't  some  one  find  out  what  it 
is,"  she  asked  faintly. 

There  were  tears  suggested  in  Rita's  eyes, 
and  she  had  leaned  over  to  take  Madge's 
hand,  when  one  of  the  men  came  up  to  Mrs. 
Synnett. 

"Mr.  Weldon  sent  me  to  you,"  he  said, 
"to  tell  you  he's  not  hurt." 

Madge  straightened  up. 

"What  was  it?"  she  asked. 

"He's  broken  two  of  his  fingers,  and  was 
stunned  for  a  moment — that's  all,"  said  the 
professional  player,  to  whom  such  an  acci- 
dent was  not  a  very  serious  matter,  and,  lift- 
ing his  hat,  he  left  them. 

Madge  bit  her  lips  hard,  but  said  nothing. 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

Mrs.  Synnett  wondered  if  she  ought  to  go 
to  him,  and  said  of  course  she  couldn't. 
Farnsworth  said  there  was  a  surgeon  there 
setting  the  fingers,  and  that  she  could  be  of 
no  service. 

"Let's  go  home,"  said  Rita. 

"No,"  said  Madge.  "I  want  to  wait  and 
see  who  wins.  That  is  what  Douglas  came 
for,  and  he  will  want  to  know  all  about 
it." 

In  only  a  few  minutes  the  men  in  the  field 
took  their  places  again.  Who  would  pitch? 
every  one  was  asking.  No  one  there  could 
take  Weldon's  place.  The  game  was  as  good 
as  lost  for  his  side.  Then  they  looked  up, 
and  saw  Weldon  himself  standing  in  the 
pitcher's  box,  no  longer  flushed  and  gay,  but 
apparently  steady,  and  in  earnest. 

Madge  gasped,  and  her  face  flamed  crim- 
son with  pride  and  fear,  for  she  knew  that 
set  expression  of  his  face  was  not  his  natural 
one.  The  unfortunate  batter  and  he  shook 
116 


CLYDE   FITCH 

hands,  and  with  the  exclamation,  "He's  go- 
ing to  pitch  in  spite  of  it!"  the  audience 
cheered  and  applauded  him. 

The  score  was  three  to  four.  One  man  had 
been  struck  out.  There  were  three  men  on 
bases. 

"Low  ball,"  shouted  the  umpire. 

Weldon  braced  himself  in  his  box,  and 
wiped  some  cold  perspiration  from  his  fore- 
head. He  noticed  that  the  linen  band  was 
tight  around  his  fingers,  and  then  forgot 
them  entirely. 

"Ball  one." 

"Ball  two." 

"Strike  one." 

"Ball  three." 

"Strike  two." 

"Strike  three." 

There  was  a  shout  of  encouragement,  and 
a  new  batter  came  up. 

Two  men  were  out. 

Would  Weldon  give  out?  Would  the 
117 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

man  on  third  base  come  in?  The  audience 
was  again  breathless  with  excitement.  Those 
on  the  grandstand  stood  up.  So  did  those 
on  the  coaches.  Yet  every  one  was  still. 
Madge  Synnett  was  trembling  violently. 

The  new  batter  took  up  his  bat.  The  um- 
pire put  on  a  mask  and  watched  more  nar- 
rowly. The  catcher  was  crouched  close 
behind  the  batter. 

"If  another  run  is  made  in  this  inning," 
breathed  Madge  dejectedly,  "and  the  score 
is  tied,  the  game  is  as  good  as  lost!" 

Madge's  hands  were  like  ice;  Rita  had 
hold  of  them. 

Weldon  drew  back  and  threw  the  ball 
right  over  the  home-plate.  The  batter  struck 
it  straight.  It  came  high  over  the  pitcher's 
head,  aimed  for  a  spot  between  him  and  the 
center  field.  The  man  on  third  base  started 
for  the  home-plate.  There  was  a  low  mur- 
mur from  the  crowd.  Weldon  jumped  and 
caught  the  ball  in  his  left  hand. 
118 


CLYDE   FITCH 

The  batter  was  out,  and  the  game  was 
won! 

Such  shouts!  such  'rahings!  such  tremen- 
dous clamor!  Such  a  waving  of  color,  and 
throwing  up  of  hats !  Such  a  pouring  forth 
of  people  from  stand  and  carriage !  and  such 
a  weak,  white  hero  as  it  was  struggling 
against  enthusiastic  men  who  were  deter- 
mined to  carry  him  triumphantly  off  the 
field  on  their  shoulders. 

Farnsworth  managed  to  get  a  carriage 
to  take  his  party  home;  for  the  excitement 
of  the  end  had  been  almost  too  much  for  the 
girls. 

"I  always  do  enjoy  these  games  so  much," 
Mrs.  Synnett  was  saying,  "and  then  it's  so 
nice  to  be  on  the  winning  side.  How  brave 
Douglas  Weldon  was!  I  do  hope  he  hasn't 
made  his  fingers  worse." 

"I  shall  never  come  to  another  ball-game 
as  long  as  I  live,"  said  Madge.  "I  think 
they  are  brutal." 

119 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

There  was  silence  for  a  few  moments ;  then 
she  exclaimed — 

"Wasn't  he  magnificent!" 

Farnsworth  left  them  at  their  door,  but 
promised  to  return  for  dinner. 

Madge  went  straight  to  her  own  room,  to 
get  over  her  hysterical  feeling  by  herself. 
She  sat  down  in  front  of  her  bureau  and  had 
a  general  clearing  out  of  all  the  drawers, 
and  at  the  same  time  had  a  general  clear- 
ing out  of  her  heart  and  mind.  When  she 
had  finished  she  felt  rested,  and  calm,  and 
happy  to  have  reached  a  firm  decision  at 
last.  She  tried  to  think  which  of  her  dresses 
Douglas  had  admired  her  most  in,  but,  not 
being  able  to  remember  his  ever  having  men- 
tioned any  one  particularly,  she  put  on  the 
one  that  she  thought  he  would  like,  and 
pinned  on  his  bit  of  color  she  had  worn  that 
afternoon  writh  one  of  her  little  brooches. 
Then  she  went  downstairs. 

120 


CLYDE    FITCH 

Later,  Farnsworth  returned  for  dinner,  as 
he  had  promised. 

Madge  was  unusually  silent,  and  they  all 
seemed  to  feel  more  or  less  the  reaction  of 
the  afternoon.  While  they  were  at  the  table 
a  messenger  boy  brought  Mrs.  Synnett  an 
opera-box  for  Friday  night  from  Mrs.  Van 
Ostrand.  Farnsworth  promised  to  join 
them,  and  Mrs.  Synnett  said  she  would  send 
word  to  Mrs.  Norris,  and  ask  Douglas  Wei- 
don  if  he  came  in  later,  as  she  thought  per* 
haps  he  would.  When  she  said  this  she  had 
to  make  an  effort  not  to  look  at  Madge. 

Weldon  was  not  long  in  coming  in;  in 
fact,  he  arrived  soon  after  they  had  gone  to 
the  music-room.  He  was  quite  himself  again, 
and  looking  as  unconscious  that  he  was  a 
hero  in  those  women's  eyes  as  an  old  heroic 
statue  is.  His  hand  was  in  a  sling,  and  he 
seemed  only  to  be  ashamed  and  embarrassed 
by  it. 

The  girls  waited  and  let  Mrs.  Synnett 
121 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

make  the  congratulatory  speech.  Weldon 
turned  to  Madge  as  soon  as  it  was  polite. 

"What  about  my  bet?"  he  asked,  looking 
handsome  and  strong  and  powerful  against 
anything. 

Madge  smiled  honestly  up  into  his  face, 
and  put  her  hand  into  his  left  one. 

"You've  won  both,"  she  said. 

"Madge,"  he  whispered,  "come  into  the 
hall,  where  I  can  kiss  you." 

Mrs.  Synnett  was  watching  them  furtive- 
ly, but  she  was  not  yet  certain.  She  had 
been  suspecting  they  were  engaged  for  the 
last  week,  but  she  could  not  tell,  Madge  was 
so  peculiar,  so  different  from  other  girls. 

Farnsworth  was  telling  Rita  some  plots 
he  had  for  stories.  It  was  a  way  he  had  of 
telling  beautiful  and  subtle  short  stories 
which  he  never  wrote.  He  meant  to,  but, 
somehow  or  other,  he  never  accomplished 
half  he  meant  to  do.  He  always  felt  a  story 
so  thoroughly  as  he  told  it,  Rita  used  to  think 

122 


CLYDE    FITCH 

it  was  as  good  as  going  to  a  play  to  listen 
to  him.  He  told  her  he  would  give  her  a 
plot  for  a  long  story  and  she  should  put  it 
away  in  her  head,  as  a  present  from  him,  and 
use  it  some  time.  He  repeated  the  outline 
of  a  strong  original  story,  and  added  a  detail 
here  and  there. 

"But  so  many  of  your  stories  end  sadly. 
Why?" 

"Because  it  is  natural  for  some  stories  to 
be  sad.  There  are  always  happy  ones  to 
read,  too.  It  depends  on  what  sort  of  people 
you  write  about  whether  your  story  is  sad 
or  happy.  Your  story,  their  story,  must 
end  according  to  their  characters.  If  you 
write  of  people  who  would,  according  to 
their  nature  and  conduct,  mar  their  lives, 
and  yet  in  your  book  show  them  to  make 
them  instead,  your  writing  is  false,  and 
therefore  valueless." 

"Ah,  I  see,"  she  said. 

"I  do  not  altogether  disregard  the  advice 
123 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

my  dear  old  father  gave  me  to  always  end 
my  novels  happily,  because,  he  said,  he  never 
recommended  a  book  to  any  one  to  read  that 
did  not  end  'all  right.'  " 

"What  are  you  aiming  at  in  your  writ- 
ing?" 

"Well,  at  present  I  am  working  to  have 
people  see  what  is  sweet  and  what  is  bitter 
in  life,  hoping  they  will  see,  besides,  the  wis- 
dom of  choosing  the  sweet.  I  am  not  trying 
to  teach,  but  I  want  to  suggest.  My  aim 
in  life — if  I  dare  to  say  I  have  one — is  to 
help  people.  If  by  my  book  I  can  pass 
honestly  an  idle  hour,  drive  away,  for  a  few 
moments  even,  a  burden  or  a  sorrow,  with  a 
smile,  or  tear,  or  thought,  I  shall  feel  my 
work  has  not  been  done  in  vain,  so  long  as 
it  accomplishes  this  by  the  true  means." 

They  talked  on  very  seriously.    Mrs.  Syn- 

nett  forgot  she  did  not  wish  to  interrupt 

them,    and    suddenly    thinking    of    Mrs. 

Hedder's  dinner,  asked  him  if  he  were  going. 

124 


CLYDE   FITCH 

"No,"  he  answered;  "I'm  afraid  Mrs. 
Hedder  didn't  like  me.  I  made  a  mistake. 
I  was  very  enthusiastic  over  her  perform- 
ance in  the  'School  for  Scandal'  last  winter, 
and  found  she  hadn't  acted  in  it:  it  was  the 
other  leading  amateur." 

Madge  and  Weldon  came  back  from  the 
library.  Madge  asked  Farnsworth  if  he 
would  play  some  accompaniments  for  her. 
He  said  he  would  with  pleasure,  somewhat 
surprised  at  the  request,  if  they  were  not  too 
difficult.  She  chose  some  music,  and  took 
up  her  violin  and  bow.  She  was  sorry  to 
have  interrupted  him  and  Rita,  she  told  her- 
self, they  had  looked  so  very  happy ;  but  she 
wanted  to  tell  Farnsworth  herself  of  her  en- 
gagement. After  they  had  been  playing  a 
few  moments,  she  said,  so  low  that  no  one 
else  but  he  could  hear,  with  the  music — 

"I  wish  to  tell  you  something." 

"What  is  it?"  he  asked,  looking  up  at  her, 
and  then  back  again  quickly  to  his  notes. 
125 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

"I'm  engaged  to  Douglas  Weldon." 

"Ouch!"  exclaimed  Rita.     "Excuse  me, 
but  that  was  awful." 

Farnsworth  was  more  careful,  and  the  ac- 
companiment went  on  correctly,  and  Madge 
played,  and  waited.  He  was  startled,  and 
yet  it  was  absurd  for  him  to  be  so.  He  had 
expected  it  when  he  first  met  her,  only  some- 
how lately  he  had  become  used  to  not  think- 
ing about  it.  It  was  a  good  match  for  her, 
but  he  was  afraid  they  would  not  be  happy. 
That  was  their  risk,  not  his;  yet  he  felt- 
without  any  reason,  he  told  himself — as  if 
it  was  his  too.  Weldon  could  never  be  in 
sympathy  with  this  wonderful  girl.  It  did 
not  occur  to  him  in  the  light  that  Madge 
could  never  be  in  sympathy  with  Weldon. 

"Well,  have  you  nothing  to  say?"  asked 
Madge. 

Farnsworth  was  confused. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said;  "you  took 
126 


CLYDE   FITCH 

me  by  surprise;  but  surely  I  need  not  tell 
you  I  wish  you  every  sort  of  happiness." 

They  played  on  for  some  time  without 
speaking  again.  Madge  had  been  somewhat 
indifferent  at  first,  but  she  finished  the  piece 
with  feeling  and  beauty.  There  was  some- 
thing humanizing  in  her  playing:  it  was  that 
which  had  always  moved  Farnsworth. 
When  he  rose  from  the  piano-stool  they 
looked  into  each  other's  eyes  a  moment  as 
they  had  looked  once  before  that  day  on  the 
steps  outside  the  house,  and  Madge  said — 

"That  is  the  last  time.  You  must  never 
accompany  me  again." 

Farnsworth  wondered  what  she  meant. 

Weldon  walked  out  with  him  when  he 
went  away.  He  knew  Madge  had  told 
Farnsworth — she  said  she  was  going  to — and 
Douglas  felt  that  he  must  talk  to  some  one, 
his  happiness  was  so  great.  Farnsworth 
congratulated  him,  and  spoke  warmly  of 
Madge.  He  liked  Weldon,  and,  in  spite 
127 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

of  the  difference  between  them,  he  could 
appreciate  his  character. 

"Am  I  not  the  luckiest  man  in  the  world?" 
the  latter  was  saying.  "Think  of  it,  old  chap ! 
Madge  Synnett,  who  was  always  to  me  like 
one  of  the  Muses,  or  all  of  them  put  to- 
gether, loving  a  great  matter-of-fact  sort  of 
man  like  me!  I'm  just  wild  with  joy.  I 
don't  know  what  to  do  with  myself." 

Meanwhile,  Madge  was  breaking  it  to  her 
mother.  She  did  it  characteristically. 

"Mamma,"  she  said,  "prepare  for  a  shock, 
but  please  don't  say  anything.  I'm  engaged 
to  be  married." 

"Oh,  Madge!  who  to?" 

Madge  laughed  at  the  absurdity  of  the 
question. 

"You'd  never  guess,"  she  said  merrily. 
"It's  Douglas  Weldon." 

Mrs.   Synnett,  now  it  had  come,  could 
scarcely  believe  her  own  ears. 
128 


CLYDE   FITCH 

"I'm  so  glad!  It's  just  what  I  wished. 
When  will  it  be?" 

"Mamma,  dear,  don't  hurry  so.  I  don't 
know  when.  The  engagement  is  to  be  kept 
perfectly  quiet  for  some  time." 

"I  knew  it  last  Friday,"  said  Mrs. 
Synnett. 

Madge  laughed.  "Why,  I  only  accepted 
him  to-night." 

"Oh!" 

Rita  had  come  and  put  her  arms  around 
Madge  and  kissed  her.  She  waited  until 
they  went  upstairs  together  before  she  spoke. 
Then  she  said — 

"Tell  me  all  about  it,  Madge.  I'm  so,  so 
happy  for  you!" 

And  the  two  girls  sat  and  talked  for  hours. 

Just  as  Rita  had  crept  into  bed,  Madge 
called  softly  through  the  open  doorway — 

"Rita,  haven't  you  anything  to  tell  me?" 

"No,"  said  Rita  hesitatingly. 

"Really?"  asked  Madge. 
129 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

"No,  not  yet,"  answered  Rita. 

"What  do  you  mean  by  'not  yet'?"  said 
Madge. 

"I  don't  quite  know  myself,"  said  Rita  a 
little  mournfully. 

Madge  could  not  sleep ;  and  several  hours 
after  their  talk  she  heard  an  only  half -sup- 
pressed sigh  from  Rita's  room.  She  started 
to  speak  again,  but  changed  her  mind. 


130 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  Synnetts  straggled  down  to  break- 
fast, all  late,  and  Madge  the  last. 
Each  one  was  thinking  of  the  same  thing, 
and  trying  to  talk  of  something  else,  while 
Mrs.  Synnett  worried  about  her  younger 
daughter's  breakfast,  till  Madge  begged  her 
please  not  to  treat  her  as  if  she  was  an  invalid 
because  she  was  going  to  be  married.  She 
said  although  everything  was  as  cold  as  ice 
she  could  manage  to  get  along,  as  she  wasn't 
ravenously  hungry.  They  were  speaking  of 
sending  a  note  to  inquire  for  Weldon's  fin- 
gers, when  a  message  came  from  him  for 
Madge. 

In  it  he  said  he  was  going  to  see  her  that 
morning,  as  business  had  called  him  sudden- 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

ly  out  of  town.  He  would  be  obliged  to 
leave  that  afternoon. 

"Oh!"  murmured  Rita  sympathizingly. 

"That's  too  bad!"  said  Mrs.  Synnett.  "I 
wanted  him  to  go  to  the  opera  with  us." 

Mrs.  Synnett  knew  he  would  have  insisted 
on  getting  a  carriage  for  them,  and  a  car- 
riage was  one  of  those  expenses  for  which 
Mrs.  Synnett  had  an  especial  antipathy. 
But  she  sat  down  at  her  desk  and  wrote  a 
note  to  Mr.  Algernon  Bolingbroke,  asking 
him  if  he  would  go  instead,  begging  him  to 
excuse  the  lateness  of  the  invitation,  as  the 
box  had  just  come;  she  knew  he  would,  they 
were  such  old  friends,  etc. 

Madge  had  said  nothing,  but  her  forehead 
wrinkled.  It  was  not  so  much  that  Douglas 
was  going  away,  but  it  was  the  dreadfully 
matter-of-fact  excuse  of  "business"  which 
irritated  her.  He  ought  to  have  waited  at 
least  till  they  had  been  engaged  a  day  be- 
fore he  let  anything  that  had  to  do  with 
132 


CLYDE   FITCH 

"business"  take  him  away  from  her.     She 
would  let  him  see  that  she  did  not  like  it. 

But  when  he  came  her  irritation  vanished 
— he  was  happy  in  such  a  grateful  way  to 
have  won  her,  and  so  honestly,  almost  boy- 
ishly, sorry  to  have  to  leave  her.  She  could 
not  but  realize  a  feeling  of  joy  that  this  man 
loved  her  better  than  any  one  else  in  the 
world — that  he  whom  her  mother  and  Rita 
greeted  so  warmly,  whom  yesterday  thou- 
sands of  people  had  admired  and  applauded, 
who  to-day  could  boast  of  a  countless  num- 
ber of  friends  who  loved  him  as  a  man  like 
him  can  be  loved,  who  probably  had  no  ene- 
mies, and  had  never  done  an  unkind  or  mean 
thing  in  his  life — this  man  had  chosen  her 
out  of  all  his  world,  and  preferred  her  love 
to  the  affection  and  admiration  of  all  these 
others,  and  had  intrusted  his  whole  happi- 
ness— the  happiness  of  a  big,  splendid  man 
— to  her  small  hands.  It  was  something  of 
a  selfish  joy  of  Madge's,  the  knowledge  that 
133 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

she  had  what  so  many  envied  her  the  pos- 
session of,  with  the  feeling  that  Weldon 
could  protect  her  from  everything:  she  did 
not  realize  that  he  could  not  protect  her  from 
one  thing — herself. 

He  brought  her  a  huge  box  of  flowers  of 
every  sort,  which  Mrs.  Synnett  thought  must 
have  cost  at  least  twenty  dollars.  There 
were  enough  to  scatter  all  over  the  house; 
and  Madge  could  not  avoid  a  comparison 
between  their  meaningless  profusion  and  the 
small  bunch  of  white  and  blue  violets  Rita 
had  worn  yesterday,  and  which  she  had  no- 
ticed still  fresh  on  her  sister's  dressing-table 
when  she  came  downstairs;  but  she  excused 
the  lack  of  a  more  delicate  sentiment  in 
Douglas,  and  told  herself  that  a  man  who 
had  his  other  qualities  of  character  did  not 
lose  by  the  lack  of  this  one.  She  caught  the 
spirit  of  his  great  gladness,  for  her  nature 
was  always  prone  to  sympathize  with  every 
strong  emotion.  She  was  as  a  reed  through 
134 


CLYDE   FITCH 

which  the  wind  of  any  mood  or  emotion 
could  blow  some  sound  of  melody.  There 
was  a  contagion  in  his  joy  which  she  felt,  and 
she  bade  herself  stop  thinking,  and  be  satis- 
fied, and  rest  in  the  steady  comfort  of  his 
unselfish  love. 

Weldon  stayed  to  lunch.  Rita  heaped 
the  table  with  flowers,  and  wished  Farns- 
worth  would  happen  in.  She  wondered  if 
he  would  think  it  queer  if  she  sent  a  note  for 
him  to  come.  She  decided  he  would,  so  did 
not  write.  Mrs.  Synnett  brought  out  a  tiny 
bit  of  her  own  wedding-cake  and  put  it 
among  the  roses  in  the  center  of  the  table. 
They  all  were  inordinately — almost  fool- 
ishly— elated. 

Madge  was  in  the  highest  spirits.  She 
called  Douglas  "Mr.  Weldon"  all  through 
the  luncheon,  and  flew  from  topic  to  topic  in 
conversation,  leaving  behind  her  a  trail  of 
fiery  nothings.  She  mimicked  people.  She 
posed  like  Mrs.  Hedder,  and  recited  "Little 
135 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

Miss  Moffet"  a  la  the  suppressed  school  of 
Bolingbroke.  She  said  she  was  going  out 
that  afternoon  to  buy  something  for  herself 
and  something  for  Douglas — she  didn't 
know  what,  but  something.  She  felt  she  must 
spend  some  money.  She  had  a  little  upstairs 
put  by  to  pay  her  music-teacher  with.  She 
would  spend  that;  she  would  spend  it  all. 
They  laughed  until  they  cried,  and  they  were 
all  hungry,  and  the  laughter  increased  their 
appetite,  and  they  ate  of  everything,  much 
to  the  gratification  of  the  flattered  cook  in 
the  kitchen.  Mrs.  Synnett  insisted  on  Wei- 
don's  smoking  at  the  table,  and  Madge  lit  a 
cigarette  for  him,  and  lit  one  for  herself, 
which  Rita  rebelled  against  and  Mrs.  Syn- 
nett only  tolerated  because  it  was  Madge 
who  did  it. 

Then  they  went  into  the  library,  where 
Rita  and  her  mother  discreetly  left  the  other 
two,  making  some  palpably  weak  excuse  to 
136 


CLYDE   FITCH 

leave  the  room,  which  only  embarrassed  them 
all. 

"Probably  he'll  lose  his  train,"  said  Mrs. 
Synnett  to  Rita  on  the  stairs. 

"Not  Douglas,"  said  Rita. 

"It  would  be  awful  if  he  did,"  said  Mrs. 
Synnett. 

"Why?"  asked  Rita. 

"Why,  I've  sent  and  asked  Mr.  Boling- 
broke  to  go  in  his  place  to  the  opera." 

"Oh!"  laughed  Rita.  "I  really  thought 
it  was  something  serious.  That  wouldn't 
make  any  difference  to  Douglas." 

"No,  I  suppose  it  wouldn't,"  answered 

Mrs.  Synnett.  "Only  I  was  thinking " 

But  she  kept  her  thoughts  about  the  carriage 
to  herself;  she  felt  they  were  ideas  with  which 
Rita  would  not  sympathize. 

Farnsworth  spent  the  day  writing  on  his 
novel  and  having  a  serious  talk  with  himself. 
He  commenced  to  feel  a  lack  of  accomplish- 
ment in  his  hero,  that  it  was  time  for  him  to 
137 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

do  something  big  to  win  the  sympathy  of  the 
readers,  and  this  suggested  to  him  the  need 
of  his  accomplishing  something  more  him- 
self. From  analyzing  his  hero  he  came  to 
analyzing  his  own  character.  He  felt  the 
lack  of  force  in  it,  the  force  which  accom- 
plishes against  all  odds — even  against  a  cer- 
tain inability — the  force  which  makes  suc- 
cess. He  knew  the  greatest  stumbling-block 
of  his  nature :  it  was  its  sentimental  intensity, 
its  excessive  sympathy — dangerous  weak- 
nesses. "Sympathy  with  false  sentiment," 
he  thought  to  himself,  "is  worse  than  no  sen- 
timent at  all.  Artistic  temperaments,  such 
as  mine,  are  apt  to  become  too  nice  and  fine 
instead  of  great  and  true." 

He  faced  the  need  of  his  making  more 
money,  of  preparing  himself  in  a  worldly 
way  really  to  think  of  matrimony.  He  had 
never  before  thought  much  about  marrying, 
but  he  had  come  now  to  believe  it  was  the 
central  point  of  the  circle  of  existence  to 
138 


CLYDE   FITCH 

which  the  radii  of  years  converged  and  from 
which  they  diverged.  He  believed  now  it 
was  a  man's  duty  to  marry,  if  possible,  some 
time.  He  stood  out  against  his  former 
theory  that  an  artist  should  be  wedded  only 
to  his  art.  He  was  by  no  means  a  man  of 
theories,  nor  was  he  always  loyal  to  those 
he  did  boast  of.  He  maintained  that  kind- 
ness was  truth,  while  Madge  believed  beauty 
was  truth.  Rita  had  no  theories  whatever, 
and  he  liked  her  all  the  better  for  that  fact. 
The  opera  was  "Siegfried,"  and  the  Syn- 
netts  were  there  for  the  overture.  Some  of 
the  regular  holders  or  orchestra-seats 
looked  up  surprised:  they  were  not  used 
to  seeing  any  one  in  Mrs.  Van  Ostrand's 
box  before  the  middle  of  the  first  act  at  the 
earliest.  Mrs.  Norris  was  seated  in  one  cor- 
ner, and  was  already  taking  mental  notes, 
for  the  Sunday  edition  of  her  paper,  of  those 
who  were  there,  and  of  those  who  were  com- 
ing in,  and  who  was  with  whom.  She  looked 
139 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

exceedingly  handsome  in  pink,  and  her  pres- 
ence seemed  enough  alone  to  fill  the  box, 
and  would  have,  had  Mrs.  Synnett  ever  been 
known  to  allow  herself  to  be  kept  in  the 
background,  and  if  the  two  younger  women 
had  not  had  beauty  and  strong  personality 
enough  to  make  them  hold  their  own. 

Madge  was  near  Mrs.  Norris,  and  seemed 
to  be  more  by  herself  than  the  others.  Farns- 
worth,  who  sat  next  to  her,  was  hurrying 
through  a  conversation  with  Rita :  they  were 
never  together  long  now  without  getting  an 
earnest  talk  about  something.  Mrs.  Synnett 
was  arranging  herself  so  as  to  see  and  be 
seen. 

They  received  the  first  act  apathetically, 
and  just  after  it  Bolingbroke  came  in,  and, 
after  greeting  them  all,  sat  down  behind 
Madge.  She  never  treated  him  seriously  for 
a  moment,  and  they  entered  immediately  into 
a  bit  of  bantering. 

Mrs.  Synnett  and  Mrs.  Norris  went  on 
140 


CLYDE   FITCH 

with  their  social  observations,  which  they 
tallied  with  such  remarks  as — 

"Isn't  that  Mr.  Manwarring  in  the  Coles' 
box?  What  does  that  mean?"  and — 

"Mrs.  Bender  Smythe  looks  like  a  fright, 
doesn't  she?"  etc.,  etc. 

Rita  and  Farnsworth  left  the  box  for  a 
stroll  along  the  corridor. 

"Do  you  understand  Wagner  thoroughly? 
I  suppose  you  do,"  she  said. 

"I'm  a  Wagnerite,  if  you  mean  that,  and 
am  familiar  with  most  if  not  all  of  his  operas. 
I  glory  in  them,"  said  Farnsworth. 

"I  enjoy  them  without  altogether  under- 
standing his  music;  but  I'm  going  to  Mr. 
Damrosch's  lectures,  for  I  know  I  must  miss 
a  great  deal  by  not  knowing  them  better. 
I'm  afraid  perhaps  I  enjoy  the  thoughts  the 
operas  give  to  me  more  than  the  author's 
own  thoughts." 

"Have  you  ever  been  to  Baireuth?" 
141 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

"No,  but  we're  going  the  next  time  we 
cross." 

"I  should  like  to  be  there  with  you." 

"Oh,  that  would  be  lovely!  I  don't  mind 
saying  that  to  you,  because  we're  good 
enough  friends  to  be  honest,  aren't  we?" 

"Yes,"  he  answered,  "we  are." 

They  walked  along  until  they  came  to  a 
lounge  at  one  end  of  the  corridor,  and  there 
they  sat  down  for  a  few  minutes.  Farns- 
worth  was  saying  over  to  himself,  "We  are 
good  enough  friends."  He  had  an  impulse 
to  speak  out,  to  contradict  her,  to  ask  her  if 
she  was  sure  they  were  only  friends.  How 
could  any  one  be  sure?  He  looked  at  her 
sweet,  fair  face,  so  full  of  what  we  call,  in 
default  of  anything  else,  soul — he  looked  into 
her  eyes,  large  and  calm  and  tender — and 
he  asked  himself  how  could  he  dare  to  love 
her.  He  did  not  know  if  it  were  love.  It 
was  not  the  sort  of  love  he  had  given  the 
women  in  his  novels.  It  was  more  like  wor- 
142 


CLYDE   FITCH 

ship.  He  always  seemed  to  be  looking  up 
to  Rita  Synnett  when  he  thought  of  her. 
She  seemed  to  meet  his  ideal  of  everything. 
He  felt  always  purer  in  her  presence.  The 
thought  of  her  as  his  wife  awed  him:  it  was 
the  feeling  of  being  in  a  holy  place.  He 
took  off  the  sandals  of  social  deceit  with 
which  he  walked  in  the  artificial  paths  of 
society,  when  he  came  into  her  companion- 
ship. There  was  none  of  that  mad  longing, 
that  wild  desire  to  possess  her  for  his  wife 
at  all  costs,  which  was  filling  now  the  breast 
of  the  man  about  whom  he  was  writing  in 
the  pages  scattered  on  his  desk  at  home ;  but 
all  the  diviner  light  of  his  life  seemed  to 
come  from  this  little  woman,  bringing  with 
it  a  sense  of  ineffable  peace. 

He  had  not  spoken,  when  Rita  said — 
"Let's  get  Madge.    We  ought  not  to  have 
left  her  in  the  box.    Bolingbroke  is  sure  to 
talk  to  mamma,  and  Captain  Galloway,  of 
course,  has  joined  Mrs.  Norris  by  this  time, 
H3 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

and  Madge  will  be  lonesome.  It  must  be 
horrid  to  have  your  fiance  go  away  as  soon 
as  he  is  one." 

And  Farnsworth  led  her  back  to  the  box. 
As  they  entered  it,  the  music  started. 
Bolingbroke  had  taken  his  place  behind  Mrs. 
Synnett.  Mrs.  Norris  gave  a  final,  some- 
what significant  glance  toward  a  tall,  mili- 
tary-looking man  in  the  orchestra,  and 
settled  herself  comfortably.  Rita  and  Farns- 
worth took  their  seats  and  turned  their  faces 
away  from  each  other  toward  the  stage. 

Madge  smiled  at  Farnsworth.  He  leaned 
over  and  whispered  to  her  that  they  had  come 
back  to  get  her.  She  shrugged  her  shoul- 
ders, and  asked  why  they  had  not  come 
sooner. 

Why  did  he  want  to  come  back  after  her? 
she  thought.  She  did  not  know  it  had  been 
Rita's  idea.  Was  not  Rita  enough?  Was 
it  possible  he  had  proposed  and  been  re- 
fused? No;  she  was  sure  Rita  loved  him, 
144 


CLYDE   FITCH 

only  she  was  not  sure  Farnsworth  loved 
Rita.  If  he  did,  why  did  he  not  propose  to 
her?  She  knew  he  was  not  rich;  but  that 
made  no  difference  to  them,  as  he  must  know. 
It  would  not  make  any  difference  to  her, 
with  a  man  like  Farnsworth.  She  started. 
This  was  the  first  time  she  had  thought  of 
Weldon  since  the  opera  began.  She  had 
forgotten  she  was  engaged ;  she  remembered 
it  now.  And  the  music  was  rousing  her  deep- 
est self,  her  most  dangerous  instincts,  filling 
her  with  vague  longings,  a  great  unrest,  a 
strong  emotion,  which  no  thought  of 
Douglas  Weldon  could  satisfy  or  calm. 
Alvary  was  in  splendid  voice :  some  one  said 
his  wife  and  eldest  child  were  in  one  of  the 
boxes,  and  that  may  have  the  more  inspired 
him.  Madge  clasped  her  hands  together 
and  leaned  forward,  listening  to  the  Sieg- 
fried theme,  as  it  rose  and  died  away  with  a 
last  faint  bugle-note  among  the  flickering 
shadows  of  the  painted  forest.  She  turned 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

her  face  toward  Farnsworth,  and  in  a  few 
moments  he  turned  and  looked  at  her,  moved 
by  some  irresistible  impulse.  He  felt  again 
the  magnetism  of  her  eyes,  until  she  turned 
back  to  the  stage  first.  Farnsworth  had  not 
lost  a  note  of  the  music,  but  there  was  a  dif- 
ference: it  was  almost  as  if  he  had  heard  it 
more  clearly  and  had  been  more  wholly  lost 
in  it.  When  Madge  turned  away,  he  fell 
back  again  into  his  former  state,  except  that 
he  felt,  in  certain  sympathy  with  him,  Madge 
Synnett  by  his  side. 

When  the  act  was  finished,  even  Mrs.  Syn- 
nett had  nothing  to  say:  they  all  had  felt 
the  music  too  strongly  to  dash  on  the  in- 
stant into  the  cold  water  of  an  ordinary  re- 
mark. Before  any  one  had  spoken,  the 
responsibility  was  taken  away  from  them  by 
the  entrance  of  a  couple  of  visitors,  the  first 
Captain  Galloway. 

Madge  asked  Farnsworth  if  he  would  take 
her  out.  He  said  of  course  he  would,  with 
146 


CLYDE   FITCH 

pleasure;  and,  as  the  others  were  talking 
among  themselves,  they  slipped  out  quietly. 

"I  wonder  if  Mrs.  Norris  is  going  to 
marry  him,"  said  Madge,  meditatively.  "She 
has  certainly  waited  long  enough,  if  she  is 
going  to." 

"I  think  she  is  wise  to  have  waited,  if  she 
marries  the  man  she  wants  to  in  the  end." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that?"  Madge 
asked,  somewhat  peculiarly,  thinking  of  her- 
self and  Weldon. 

Farnsworth  looked  up  from  the  carpet, 
made  somewhat  uneasy  by  the  tone  of  her 
voice. 

"Nothing,"  he  said. 

Madge  was  not  sure  whether  she  believed 
him  or  not. 

"Shall  you  practice  what  you  preach?"  she 
asked. 

"No,  I  suppose  not,"  he  answered. 

She  spoke  of  the  music:  "I  could  feel 
how  much  you  were  enjoying  it." 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

"Yes,"  he  said,  "and  all  through  this  act 
I  was  conscious  of  the  sympathy  of  your 
enjoyment.  What  is  it,  Miss  Madge?" 

"What  is  what?" 

"This  sympathy  between  two  people,  as 
there  seems  to  be  between  you  and  me." 

"I  do  not  know,"  said  Madge,  "if  you 
don't." 

They  passed  other  couples  walking  in  the 
corridor,  some  of  whom  bowed,  but  they  no- 
ticed no  one.  No  matter  where  it  was,  if 
he  was  walking  with  Madge,  Farnsworth 
never  saw  anything  or  anybody  else. 

"I  chose  my  seat  purposely,"  said  Madge, 
"to  be  by  you.  I  can  always  enjoy  music 
better  with  a  sympathetic  person;  but  if 
there  is  an  unsympathetic  person  between 
you,  you  might  as  well  be  in  different  boxes." 

For  just  an  instant  Farnsworth  wondered 

if  the  girl  was  trying  to  flirt  with  him;  but 

he  repelled  the  suggestion  as  unworthy  of 

both  her  and  him.     She  was  too  evidently 

148 


CLYDE   FITCH 

in  earnest.  The  same  expression  was  on  her 
face  as  when  she  held  her  violin — the  expres- 
sion which  carried  him  away  from  the  real 
into  the  imaginative  world. 

They  both  were  thoroughly  under  the  in- 
fluence of  the  music,  and  could  discuss  emo- 
tions in  a  manner  which  would  have  seemed 
ridiculous,  even  to  them,  under  more  ordi- 
nary circumstances.  It  is  a  dangerous  time 
when  two  like  people  reach  this  stage — peo- 
ple of  a  like  temperament.  It  is  called  the 
artistic  temperament,  the  intense  tempera- 
ment, the  sentimental  temperament  by  some 
people ;  it  is  all  the  same  thing.  Those  who 
haven't  it  do  not  understand  it,  often  do  not 
believe  in  it.  Those  who  have  it,  sooner  or 
later  learn  to  know  its  wide  extremes — learn 
to  know  that  they  can  enjoy  the  more,  as 
they  can  suffer  the  more  in  turn;  learn  to 
know  that  as  the  capacity  for  bliss  is  greater 
in  them,  so  is  the  capacity  for  sorrow. 

Rita  Synnett  had  a  purely  artistic  tem- 
149 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

perament,  but  her  life  had  been  one  of  com- 
parative self-denial,  of  considering  herself 
last,  and  her  nature  had  received  a  check. 
It  was  normally  sympathetic,  sweet,  and 
helpful. 

But  her  sister's  had  been  allowed  free 
range,  and  Madge  was  accustomed  to  give 
way  to  her  moods  and  emotions  without  re- 
gard to  the  comfort  or  convenience  of  those 
about  her.  She  was  morbidly  sympathetic. 
All  the  instincts  of  her  artistic  temperament 
were  intensified. 

Farnsworth  had  been  accustomed  to  give 
way  to  his  moods  and  his  impulses  because 
there  was  no  one  in  his  immediate  personal 
neighborhood  to  suffer  by  his  doing  so,  save 
himself.  He  had,  however,  the  restraint  of 
a  certain  manliness,  which  had  always  helped 
him.  The  sympathy  between  two  people  like 
Madge  and  him  can  only  be  half  understood. 

"How  different  even  appreciative  people 
are!"  said  Farnsworth.  "Mrs.  Norris  for 
150 


CLYDE   FITCH 

example:  she  is  enjoying  the  opera,  I  am 
sure,  without  feeling  it  the  way  that  we  do." 

"She  likes  it  because  it's  big  and  grand 
and  thrills  her.  She  likes  all  the  instruments. 
She  likes  anything  big.  Did  you  ever  notice 
her  rings,  and  her  pins,  and  the  pictures  and 
furniture  in  her  house? — all  big,  but  good, 
too." 

There  was  another  pause  between  them. 
Conversation  between  these  two  was  always 
by  fits  and  starts. 

"Mamma's  enjoyment  is  manifold  and  in- 
tricate," said  Madge.  "She  wouldn't  care 
for  the  music  alone,  nor  the  acting  without 
the  people,  nor  the  people  without  the  opera- 
house,  nor  the  opera-house  without  the  deco- 
rations. Mix  these  all  up  in  some  sort  of 
harmony,  and  mamma  is  delighted." 

"Yes,"  said  Farnsworth  politely.  Some- 
how or  other,  he  was  not  as  interested  in 
Mrs.  Synnett  as  he  had  been.  He  thought 
of  Rita,  and  he  wanted  to  propose  going 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

back  to  her,  but  he  did  not  like  to  suggest 
it :  he  felt  that  Madge  would  resent  his  doing 
so,  and  would  think  herself  not  sufficiently 
interesting.  The  truth  was,  she  was  almost 
too  interesting.  When  he  was  with  her  he 
seemed  to  be  shut  off  from  all  the  rest  of  the 
world. 

"Why  did  you  dislike  me  so  much  when 
we  first  met?"  Farns worth  asked,  breaking 
the  next  silence. 

"I  don't  know  that  I  really  did,"  answered 
Madge. 

"You  certainly  appeared  to." 

"Yes,  but  I  don't  think  I  even  then  suc- 
ceeded in  deceiving  myself.  I  wanted  to  dis- 
like you.  You  did  not  like  me." 

"I  should  not  say  that.  You  did  not  give 
me  a  chance  to  find  out  if  I  did  or  not.  You 
always  shunned  me." 

"Ah,  but  a  girl  can't  put  herself  forward 
and  force  a  man  to  like  her  or  not :  he  must 
make  his  own  chances." 
152 


CLYDE   FITCH 

"But  you  devoted  yourself  to  Weldon." 

"And  you  to  Rita.  I  heard  from  Douglas 
this  morning." 

The  conversation  was  broken  again.  Was 
it  possible  he  was  jealous,  Madge  wondered, 
that  he  should  have  brought  up  Douglas's 
name  in  the  way  he  did  ?  She  did  not  know ; 
and  what  difference  could  it  make  to  her  if 
he  were?  She  thought  the  conversation  had 
better  end. 

"I  think  it  is  time  to  go  back,"  she  said. 

He  offered  her  his  arm  without  a  word. 
He  was  wondering  what  she  had  meant  by 
it  all,  and  what  he  himself  had  meant  by 
taking  it  so  seriously.  He  did  not  under- 
stand Madge  Synnett  to-night  any  better 
than  the  evening  he  met  her.  He  did  not 
understand  himself  to-night  much  more. 

The  musicians  were  just  finding  their 
places.  Several  men  were  taking  leave  of 
Rita.  Farnsworth  saw  them,  without  notic- 
ing who  they  were:  he  was  arranging 
153 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

Madge's  cloak  at  the  back  of  her  chair,  and 
he  found  himself  as  nervous  over  it  and  as 
anxious  to  do  it  right  as  if  he  were  arrang- 
ing the  cushion  of  a  queen;  and  there  had 
been  a  perceptible  tremble  of  Madge's  shoul- 
ders as  he  leaned  over  them. 

Rita  hurried  her  cavaliers  off,  fearing 
Farnsworth  might  be  jealous  or  hurt,  or 
think  she  enjoyed  their  company  as  much 
as  his.  Mrs.  Norris  was  sending  Captain 
Galloway  away,  and  asking  him  to  time  the 
famous  kiss  in  the  last  act  for  her.  Mrs. 
Synnett  was  wondering  how  long  the  next 
act  was :  it  was  getting  late. 

The  rest  of  the  opera  passed  without  inci- 
dent. Lili  Lehmann  was  as  popular  with 
the  Synnetts  as  with  every  one.  Madge  said 
the  one  thing  that  made  her  resigned  to  be- 
ing who  she  was,  was  that  she  couldn't  be 
Lili  Lehmann  if  she  wasn't.  When  the 
prima  donna  was  applauded,  she  watched 
Farnsworth's  hands,  thinking  what  wonder- 
154 


CLYDE   FITCH 

ful  artistic  hands  they  were,  and  smiled 
approval.  Once  she  leaned  over  and 
whispered — 

"How  you  men  must  envy  Alvary!" 
"I  don't  know,"  he  answered.  He  thought 
at  that  moment  he  envied  Weldon  more. 
Then,  ashamed  of  his  thought,  he  turned 
away  from  her,  lest  she  should  read  it  in  his 
mind. 

In  the  confusion  of  putting  on  wraps  and 
getting  out  of  the  box,  Madge  said  to  Farns- 
worth — 

"Douglas  was  to  bring  me  to-morrow  aft- 
ernoon to  hear  'Siegfried'  again.    Of  course 
he  won't  be  able  to  now,  and  he  has  sent  me 
the  tickets.     Rita  can't  go:  she  has  an  en- 
gagement.   Will  you  come?" 
"Thanks,  I'll  be  delighted  to." 
He  was  putting  her  into  the  carriage,  and, 
when  he  turned  to  help  Rita,  Bolingbroke 
had  just  secured  that  privilege.    He  shook 
hands  with  her  instead,  and  said  good-night, 
155 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

thanked  Mrs.  Synnett,  who  was  making  ex- 
emplary efforts  not  to  yawn  in  his  face,  for 
the  pleasure  she  had  given  him,  crossed 
swords  with  Mrs.  Norris,  and  looked  at 
Madge. 

"At  two,"  she  said. 

"All  right:  thanks." 

He  nodded  to  Bolingbroke  and  called  a 
cab.  He  felt  strangely  excited — entirely  too 
much  so  to  go  to  Delmonico's  with  Boling- 
broke. 

"How  Madge  Synnett  appreciates 
music!"  he  thought,  bracing  himself  back 
in  one  side  of  the  cab  to  resist  as  much  as 
possible  the  cobble-stoned  motion.  "Her  en- 
joyment of  it  was  so  deep  it  intensified  mine. 
What  a  wonderful,  beautiful  girl  she  is,  and 
how  inexplicable  everything  she  does !  How 
she  will  love  when  she  really  loves!  I  don't 
believe  she  loves  Weldon.  I  don't  believe 
yet  she  will  marry  him.  I  knew  when  I  saw 
her  she  would  have  a  history.  Such  a  love 
156 


CLYDE   FITCH 

as  hers  would  be  wasted  on  Weldon;  and 
she  will  feel  this,  sooner  or  later,  herself. 
She  is  a  woman  who  would  make  any  sacri- 
fice for  the  man  she  loved,  and  would  demand 
as  much  in  return;  and  she  would  not  be  dis- 
appointed if  his  nature  was  sympathetic." 
He  himself  had  already  felt  the  responsi- 
bility of  resisting1  her  influence  even  in  the 
purely  friendly  footing  they  were  on.  His 
characterization  of  people  in  his  novels  had 
taught  him  to  observe  his  own  as  well  as 
others'  actions,  and  find  out  the  whys  and 
the  wherefores. 

He  had  been  talking  to  himself  in  the  cab 
in  a  half-whisper.  When  his  brain  was  ex- 
cited he  often  thought  half  aloud.  He  looked 
out  now  at  the  streets — for  it  was  raining — 
and  shivered  .  He  leaned  back  and  shut  his 
eyes.  He  could  feel  the  touch  of  Madge's 
hand  upon  his  arm,  and  the  influence  of  her 
eyes  looking  into  his.  He  thought  of  the 
difference  in  the  sympathy  of  the  two  sisters. 
157 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

Rita's  came  like  the  sun  and  chased  the 
clouds  away.  Madge's  played  through  all 
his  moods  and  lit  them  up,  like  lightning  in 
a  blackened  sky.  Her  temperament  was 
more  like  his  than  Rita's  was.  The  effect 
of  her  sympathy  was  to  be  with  him  in  the 
same  state  of  mind  rather  than  to  help  him 
out  of  one  into  another.  It  intensified,  al- 
most exaggerated,  whatever  the  feeling  was, 
but  at  the  same  time  it  gave  the  company 
which  both  misery  and  joy  love.  She  never 
rested  him,  but  on  the  other  hand  she  filled 
him  with  a  wonderful  stimulus  and  urged 
him  on  mightily.  There  was  a  lack  of  some- 
thing somewhere,  for  though,  perhaps,  under 
the  influence  of  her  mind  he  did  spasmodic- 
ally bigger  work,  under  the  calm  encour- 
agement of  Rita's  personality  he  wrote  more 
evenly  and  well.  Madge  fired  him  with  ideas 
which  he  never  carried  out.  Rita  prepared 
the  way  for  the  embodiment  of  his  own  ideas 
158 


CLYDE   FITCH 

which  he  had  not  hitherto  been  able  to  for- 
mulate. 

The  four  women  in  the  carriage  were  un- 
usually silent.  Each  one  had  her  own  espe- 
cial thoughts  to  occupy  her,  except  Mrs. 
Synnett,  and  she  was  half  asleep.  It  was 
something  unusual  for  Mrs.  Norris  to  be 
silent,  but  the  others  did  not  notice  it. 

Rita  was  thinking  that,  music  and  all,  she 
had  found  the  first  act  the  most  interesting, 
and  wondered  what  Madge  had  meant  by 
two  o'clock,  and  why  she  had  so  monopolized 
Farnsworth.  She  did  not  think  it  was  right, 
for  Weldon's  sake. 

Madge  wras  going  over  in  her  mind  care- 
fully every  bit  of  conversation  between 
Farnsworth  and  herself,  regretting  she  had 
said  some  things,  and  wishing  she  had  said 
certain  others.  She  resolved  never  again  to 
talk  so  seriously  with  him ;  she  felt  it  was  not 
wise,  and  she  felt  it  was  not  being  exactly 
true  to  Douglas ;  and  then  she  shut  her  eyes, 
159 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

and  thought  how  long  it  would  be  before 
two  o'clock  to-morrow. 

Mrs.  Norris  was  thinking  if  she  would 
dare  tell  Madge  what  was  in  her  mind.  She 
thought  she  would  like  to,  but  somehow  she 
did  not  feel  that  Madge  was  in  a  receptive 
mood  that  night:  so  she  was  silent.  If  Mrs. 
Norris  had  not  been  at  the  time  so  engrossed 
in  her  own  personal  affairs,  she  would  doubt- 
less have  noticed  more  the  absent-mindedness 
of  the  Synnetts.  As  it  was,  she  did  not  notice 
anything;  and  of  course  she  did  not  know 
of  Madge's  engagement  to  Weldon.  She 
had  noticed  casually  that  Madge  and  Farns- 
worth  had  been  together  the  greater  part  of 
the  evening,  and  was  glad  to  see  it. 

As  Madge  was  getting  out  of  the  carriage 
in  front  of  their  house,  her  foot  slipped  on 
the  step,  and  her  ankle  turned.  She  fell,  but 
when  they  picked  her  up  she  said  she  could 
walk  without  any  trouble,  and  went  into  the 
library.  She  said  she  was  more  alarmed 
1 60 


CLYDE   FITCH 

about  her  dress  than  she  was  about  her  foot, 
for  doctors  were  cheaper  than  dressmakers. 
But  before  she  was  ready  for  bed  her  ankle 
was  swollen  and  painful,  and  they  sent  for 
their  physician.  Mrs.  Synnett  meanwhile 
brought  smelling-salts,  cologne,  Pond's  Ex- 
tract, and  other  restoratives,  and  with  her 
myriad  suggestions  and  queries  drove 
Madge  almost  distracted.  She  was  won- 
dering if  she  would  have  to  break  her  en- 
gagement for  the  opera  to-morrow.  Rita 
in  her  pity  for  Madge's  accident  had  for- 
gotten all  about  her  remark  to  Farnsworth 
when  he  bade  them  good-night,  and  her 
monopoly  of  him  during  the  greater  part  of 
the  opera. 

When  the  doctor  came,  they  found  it  was 
only  a  slight  sprain,  which  he  said  would 
keep  Madge  in  the  house  a  few  days — that 
was  all. 

Mrs.  Synnett,  who  said  her  nerves  had 
received  a  great  shock,  marched  off  to  her 
161 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

room  with  the  salts  and  cologne  and  several 
other  of  the  bottles  she  had  brought  for 
Madge,  to  use  herself. 

Rita  offered  to  sit  up  with  her  sister  till 
she  went  to  sleep,  but  Madge  thanked  her 
and  said  she  would  rather  be  alone.  In  a 
little  time  they  were  both  asleep  and  dream- 
ing— dreaming  of  one  man.  And  he  was 
sitting  at  a  thickly-strewn  desk,  a  blank  sheet 
of  paper  before  him,  his  head  in  his  hands. 
He  was  thinking  of  one  of  these  dreamers — 
of  one  only. 

And  miles  away,  in  his  rather  cheerless 
hotel  chamber,  another  man  was  saying, 
"God  bless  her!" 


162 


CHAPTER  VI 

MADGE  was  in  the  best  of  spirits  the 
next  morning.  Before  she  was  fair- 
ly awake  she  knew  there  was  something  to 
open  her  eyes  for,  and  she  thought  of  her 
afternoon  engagement  with  Farnsworth. 
Then  she  remembered  her  ankle.  Of  course 
the  opera  was  out  of  the  question ;  but  there 
was  no  reason,  to  her  mind,  why  she  shouldn't 
get  down  into  the  library  and  receive  Farns- 
worth there.  She  was  sure  Douglas  would 
not  mind :  she  did  not  want  to  be  home  alone, 
and  Saturday  afternoon  Rita  always  went 
out  with  their  mother  to  pay  visits. 

Madge  sent  along  her  visiting-cards  with 
them.    She  said  it  was  a  case  of  an  old  say- 
ing in  a  new  frock,  that  two  was  company 
and  three  a  crowd,  and  no  one  wanted  a 
163 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

crowd  of  Synnetts  coming  to  their  house, 
and  Rita  was  the  oldest  and  the  polite  one  in 
the  family,  so  she  was  the  one  to  go.  Mrs. 
Synnett  said  of  course  Rita  must  go ;  and  so 
poor  Rita  went.  She  hated  paying  these 
duty-visits,  but  she  did  not  believe  in  refus- 
ing her  mother  anything  that  she  was  able  to 
do  with  only  inconvenience  to  herself. 

Of  course,  Madge  thought,  it  was  not  to 
be  expected  that  she  would  spend  the  after- 
noon alone.  She  would  write  Farnsworth 
and  ask  him  to  bring  some  of  his  work  to 
read  to  her.  He  had  promised  he  would, 
once ;  she  would  remind  him  of  that  promise 
now. 

She  sent  off  the  note  at  the  same  time  with 
a  short  letter  to  Douglas,  and  spent  the  rest 
of  the  morning  in  a  lounging-chair  in  her 
own  room,  playing  odds  and  ends  of  music 
on  her  violin. 

She  came  downstairs  to  luncheon  with  a 
cane.  Rita  told  her  it  was  so  becoming,  she 
164 


CLYDE   FITCH 

had  better  remain  convalescent  for  the  rest 
of  her  life.  It  was  only  a  slight,  sprain ;  all 
the  swelling  was  gone,  and  there  was  no 
pain ;  but  she  kept  a  rubber  band  about  her 
ankle. 

At  the  table  Rita  said  her  mother  would 
have  to  take  her  cards  too  that  afternoon,  so 
she  could  stay  with  Madge. 

"Mr.  Farns worth  is  coming  to  read  to 
me,"  said  Madge. 

In  spite  of  herself,  she  felt  conscious.  She 
looked  Rita  straight  in  the  face,  but  she  felt 
her  own  expression  was  hard. 

Rita  was  silent. 

"You'd  better  be  careful,"  said  Mrs.  Syn- 
nett,  eating  a  conserve  while  waiting  for  the 
salad.  "Douglas  will  be  getting  jealous." 
She  said  this  as  if  it  was  something  funny. 

Madge  felt  she  must  explain: 

"We  were  going  to  the  opera  together. 
Douglas,  you  know,  sent  me  two  tickets,  and 
you  and  Rita  both  said  you  couldn't  go;  so 
165 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

1  asked  Mr.  Farsworth  to,  last  night.  But 
as  I  can't  go  myself  now,  and  as  he  had  al- 
ways said  he  would  read  something  of  his,  I 
thought  this  would  be  a  good  chance.  You 
see,  Rita,  you  mustn't  monopolize  all  Mr. 
Farns worth's  readings."  And  she  smiled 
pleasantly,  and  Rita  tried  to  feel  it  was  all 
right. 

Mrs.  Synnett  was  glad.  She  said  it  would 
keep  her  from  being  bored.  She  was  sorry 
she  couldn't  stay  and  listen  too,  but  really 
these  calls  must  be  made;  as  it  was,  she 
didn't  see  how  they  were  ever  going  to  get 
through  them  all.  She  wished  so  many  peo- 
ple wouldn't  take  the  same  day.  She  wished 
society  people  would  go  back  to  the  old  way 
of  not  having  "days."  You  could  pay  so 
many  more  visits  when  people  were  apt  to 
be  out  and  you  didn't  have  to  stop  and  see 
them. 

Rita  came  into  the  library,  hunting  for  her 
card-case,  just  before  she  and  her  mother 
1 66 


CLYDE   FITCH 

went.  Madge  was  sitting  there,  trying  to 
read,  and  feeling  a  bit  conscience-smitten. 
She  called  Rita  to  her. 

"Do  you  mind?" 

"No,  dear,  of  course  not,"  answered  Rita ; 
but  it  was  a  sorry  little  smile  on  her  face 
which  Madge  saw. 

"If  you  do,"  she  went  on,  "I'll  excuse 
myself  and  not  see  him." 

"Why,  Madge,"  answered  Rita,  "I've  no 
right  to  mind  Mr.  Farnsworth  coming  to 
see  you;  and  I  don't." 

But  she  did;  and  Madge  knew  it. 

Rita  turned  and  looked  at  her  sister  as 
she  went  out  of  the  door. 

"How  beautiful  she  is!"  she  thought. 
"How  could  any  one  help  loving  her?" 

Madge  was  dressed  in  a  gobelin-blue  vel- 
vet gown,  cut  after  an  old  picture  in  the 
Louvre.  It  was  a  favorite  dress,  and  she 
wore  it  on  any  and  every  occasion.  It  was 
perfectly  plain,  and  dragged  in  the  back, 
167 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

while  a  bit  of  silver-brocaded  petticoat  made 
a  bashful  appearance  at  one  side,  and  the 
narrow  sleeves  came  away  down  over  her 
wrist.  She  wore  about  her  neck  a  string  of 
beads  and  a  cross  of  lapis-lazuli. 

There  was  half  an  hour  still  to  wait  before 
she  could  expect  Farnsworth.  She  took  out 
a  letter  of  Weldon's  which  she  had  received 
and  read  that  morning  and  had  stuck  in  her 
belt  when  dressing.  She  thought  she  would 
re-read  it ;  but  she  remembered  everything  in 
it — which  was  not  very  much,  for  Douglas 
was  not  a  letter-writer — and  so  changed  her 
mind,  and  opened  a  book  instead,  and  sat 
forgetfully  twisting  her  letter  into  a  tight 
roll  like  a  curl-paper. 

When  Farnsworth  came,  her  face  lighted 
up  with  splendid  animation.  He  had  heard 
from  the  servant  at  the  door  how  nearly  well 
she  was,  and  he  entered  the  room  rather 
jauntily.  He  stopped  in  open  admiration 
before  her  where  she  sat  back  in  a  great  arm- 
168 


CLYDE   FITCH 

chair,  leaning  against  a  heap  of  soft  shim- 
mering pillows  of  delicately-toned  brocades 
and  silken  stuffs,  with  one  exquisitely-slip- 
pered little  foot  on  a  cushion  on  the  floor. 

"You  look  like  a  crown-princess  of  yes- 
terday who  has  forgotten  her  frame,"  he 
exclaimed,  "and  you  must  let  me  offer 
homage." 

He  knelt  in  front  of  her  in  playful  gal- 
lantry, took  her  hand,  and  kissed  it.  He 
felt  the  fingers  quiver  underneath  his  lips, 
and  his  own  heart  suddenly  beat  thicker. 
He  rose  up  rather  hastily,  and  tried  to  cover 
with  some  conventional  inquiry  after  her 
ankle  the  strange  alarm  and  embarrassment 
he  felt. 

Madge  answered  him  quite  calmly,  but  the 
fingers  of  her  hand  were  closed  tight,  and 
she  was  straining  her  eyes  out  of  the  window, 
so  hard  that  tears  came  in  them.  They  both 
felt  the  necessity  of  making  some  effort  to 
save  the  afternoon  from  being  spoiled.  To- 
169 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

gather  they  threw  off  the  unnatural  tension 
of  the  first  few  moments.  She  laughingly 
told  him  about  her  accident. 

"When  I  got  out  of  the  carriage,"  she 
said,  "I  did  not  get  out  of  the  frame  of 
mind  I  was  in  when  you  left  me.  I  was  'in 
the  clouds,'  and  of  course  I  never  dreamed 
of  coming  down  from  them  by  an  iron 
bracket.  I  was  brought  back  to  the  conven- 
tional world  and  my  ordinary  self  rather 
suddenly,  and  was  winged  in  the  descent. 
Isn't  'winged'  the  proper  term?" 

"I'm  not  a  sportsman,  so  I  can't  tell.  I 
suppose  there  is  a  moral,  that  we  must  not 
go  wandering  off  up  in  the  clouds  where 
we  don't  belong,  for  we  are  sure  to  come 
back  home  some  time,  when  we  must  get 
out  of  the  carriage  and  had  better  be  mind- 
ing the  step." 

"Yes,  or  a  simpler  one  than  that  for  me: 
not  to  think  seriously  any  more" — she  caught 
her  breath — "in  carriages."  And  they  both 
170 


CLYDE   FITCH 

laughed  nervously,  as  if  they  had  escaped 
something. 

Farnsworth  asked  after  Mrs.  Synnett  and 
Miss  Rita.  Madge  told  him  what  they  were 
doing,  and  then  asked  if  he  had  brought  his 
book  to  read  to  her. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  "I've  brought  several  parts 
which  I  wish  to  read  to  you  and  hear  your 
opinion  of."  He  took  up  a  package  of 
papers  on  the  table,  and  began  making  a 
selection. 

Madge  leaned  back,  smiling  for  very  hap- 
piness, eager  to  have  him  begin.  She  thought 
him  very  beautiful — peculiarly  so  for  a  man. 
His  hair  curled  slightly,  and  was  brushed 
off  his  forehead  on  either  side.  Such  a  fore- 
head! it  reminded  her  of  the  Severn  draw- 
ing of  Keats.  And  his  voice  was  a  softly- 
modulated,  flexible  one,  a  musical  voice, 
which  seemed  to  have  as  many  octaves  as  a 
piano,  and  which  could  express  any  and 
every  emotion. 

171 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

"I  will  keep  perfectly  still,"  she  thought, 
"and  give  myself  up  to  it  all  while  he  is 
reading;  for  I  want  to  enjoy  it.  Besides, 
I  shall  probably  never  hear  him  read  again — 
this  way." 

"First,"  he  said,  "I'm  going  to  read  you 
all  the  references  to  the  character  of  my 
heroine,  along  in  the  first  part  of  the  book." 

He  read  portions  here  and  there,  looking 
now  and  then  toward  Madge,  who  nodded 
her  head  approvingly  or  half  smiled,  but  sat 
perfectly  still,  bent  forward,  with  her  two 
hands  clasped  on  her  knee. 

She  did  not  speak  as  soon  as  he  finished, 
but  after  a  moment  said — 

"It's  perfect." 

"I  am  glad  you  think  so." 

"Does  she  know  it?" 

"Who  know  it?" 

"Rita." 

"Know  what?" 

172 


CLYDE   FITCH 

"That  you  have  taken  her  for  your 
heroine." 

"I  haven't." 

But,  as  he  said  it,  for  the  first  time  he 
knew  that  he  had.  It  was  a  revelation  to 
him.  It  was  true  he  had  unconsciously  taken 
Rita  Synnett  for  his  heroine.  He  wondered 
if  she  had  found  it  out  for  a  moment,  but 
knew  she  would  not  have  discussed  the 
character  so  openly  with  him  if  she  had. 
Besides,  she  was  too  modest,  too  self- 
depreciating,  to  recognize  her  own  character 
truly  drawn.  He  wished  Madge  had  not 
made  the  discovery:  it  would  make  it  hard, 
next  to  impossible,  to  read  the  rest  to  her. 

"Didn't  you  do  it  purposely?"  asked 
Madge. 

"No;  I  did  not  know  I  had  done  it  until 
you  told  me." 

She  was  glad  of  that.  It  made  her  feel 
that  she  had  a  certain  power,  or  at  least 
influence,  over  him.  A  sudden  question 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

flashed  across  her  mind.  Was  he  ignorant, 
too,  of  the  fact  that  he  loved  Rita,  if  he  did? 
Could  she  open  his  eyes  to  that,  too? 

She  should  not  try. 

"Whom  does  your  heroine  marry?" 

"No  one." 

"Why?" 

"There  was  no  one  worthy  of  her." 

"But  she  was  in  love  with  some  one?" 

"Yes,  with  an  ordinary  man  utterly  un- 
able to  appreciate  her." 

"Read  me  about  him." 

He  knew  it  was  too  like  Douglas  Weldon, 
and  he  knew,  besides,  she  would  exaggerate 
the  likeness.  He  did  not  dare  to  read  it. 

"I  didn't  bring  those  parts  with  me,"  he 
said.  She  knew  he  was  not  telling  her  the 
truth,  but  she  did  not  know  whether  he  had 
chosen  Douglas  Weldon  or  himself  for  his 
hero.  She  felt  sure  he  had  drawn  one  or 
the  other. 


CLYDE   FITCH 

She  started  to  ask  whom  this  man  did 
marry,  if  not  Rita,  but  she  changed  her  mind. 

"Well,  you  have  something  else  with  you, 
then,  to  read?"  she  said. 

"Yes,"  he  answered;  "oh,  yes."  Then  he 
went  on  to  read  to  her  other  passages  from 
his  book,  watching  her  face  as  he  read,  while 
improvements  and  changes  to  be  made  for 
the  better  flashed  across  his  mind. 

As  for  Madge,  she  had  given  herself  com- 
pletely up  to  the  influence  of  the  time-being, 
as  she  had  decided  to  do.  For  her,  at  pres- 
ent, the  library  was  the  world,  and  she  and 
Farnsworth  were  in  it  together,  and  life  was 
those  passages  from  his  novel  which  he  was 
giving  her.  It  was  all  very  wonderful,  but 
she  accepted  it  without  questioning;  she 
knew  if  she  questioned,  everything  would 
tumble  down.  She  was  feverish  in  her  sub- 
dued excitement,  and  the  stem  of  a  rose 
with  which  she  was  playing  had  dried  in  her 
175 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

feverish  fingers,  and  the  petals  were  droop- 
ing. 

"I  want  to  read  you  now,"  said  Farns- 
worth,  "the  only  real  love-passage  in  the 
book." 

He  read  her  the  few  paragraphs  he  had 
written  that  night  about  two  months  ago 
and  afterward  cut  out.  It  was  the  expres- 
sion alone  to  himself  of  a  man's  strong  over- 
powering love  for  a  woman  bound  by  the  ties 
of  matrimony  to  another — a  twofold  con- 
fession of  weakness  and  strength — the  own- 
ing up  to  himself  of  the  fact,  and  the  earnest, 
stern  resolve  that  the  woman  should  never 
know,  and  that  his  life  should  not  be  wasted, 
but  be  put  to  some  good  use  in  helping  others 
to  what  happiness  he  could. 

It  was  well  written,  there  was  no  doubt 
about  that.  The  language  was  glowing  and 
true,  and  brought  conviction  with  it.  Farns- 
worth  was  carried  away  now  as  he  had  been 
that  first  night  when  he  wrote  it.  He  felt 
176 


CLYDE   FITCH 

again  the  absorbing  intensity  of  the  man's 
love,  and  the  manliness  of  his  nature,  the 
unselfishness  of  his  passion  which  rescued 
both  him  and  the  woman  from  the  utter 
wretchedness  and  failure  in  which  a  weaker 
character  might  have  involved  them. 

When  he  had  finished,  there  was  perfect 
silence  for  several  moments.  Farnsworth 
leaned  his  head  on  his  hand.  He  looked  up 
at  Madge.  She  was  looking  at  him  with 
tears  in  her  eyes,  and  an  expression  which 
hinted  at  a  suffering  which  was  sweet.  He 
started  to  go  toward  her,  as  in  a  dream.  He 
would  have  taken  the  beautiful  vision  into 
his  arms,  he  would  have  kissed  the  tears 
away  from  her  eyes,  but  she  rose  and  faced 
him,  and  then,  unconscious  of  her  sprain, 
turned  and  walked  to  the  window.  It 
brought  Farnsworth  to  his  senses. 

He  made  a  tremendous  effort  to  compose 
himself. 

177 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

"You  ought  not  to  stand,"  he  said.  "You 
will  make  your  ankle  worse." 

She  sat  down  on  the  window-seat  without 
a  word. 

"I  see,"  he  went  on,  determined  not  to 
forget  himself  again,  and  to  help  her,  "that 
you  feel  this  as  strongly  as  I  do.  I  am  almost 
sorry  I  read  it." 

"Don't  say  that,"  she  said;  "and  don't 
think  me  too  weak,  will  you?  Probably  the 
ankle  had  something  to  do  with  it."  And 
she  tried  to  smile. 

He  sat  down  in  the  seat  she  had  just  left, 
after  arranging  a  couple  of  pillows  behind 
her. 

"I  had  thought  of  cutting  this  out,"  he 
went  on. 

"Why?"  she  asked. 

"Because  if  I  keep  it  in  it  will  influence 
me  to  change  my  ending.  I  rather  want  to 
change  the  ending,  though.  I  want  to  make 
it  end  happier." 

178 


CLYDE   FITCH 

"But  I  thought  you  said  once  that  the  end- 
ing of  a  book  was  inevitable?" 

"It  is  inevitable.  And  I  feel  if  I  make 
a  good  strong  man  out  of  my  hero  some  hap- 
piness must  and  will  come  to  him,  if  he 
doesn't  miss  it  through  some  weakness  or 
other  in  his  character." 

"How  could  happiness  come  to  him?" 

"Why,  if  he  behaved  as  he  starts  here  to 
do,  will  he  not  become  more  worthy  of  the 
love  of  my  heroine?  And  could  not  in  time 
a  love  for  her  replace  this  first  misplaced 
passion  of  his? — something  deeper,  some- 
thing purer?" 

"No,  not  if  his  first  love  was  worth  any- 
thing, if  it  was  as  strong  as  you  have  made 
it." 

"You  don't  think  so?"     It  was  strange 

how  she  influenced  his  opinion :  if  she  did  not 

altogether  impede  its  current,  she  turned  it 

a  little  aside.    With  Rita  he  always  argued 

179 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

his  point,  if  he  believed  in  it,  till  he  won 
her  over. 

"Besides,"  Madge  continued,  "do  you 
think  this  second  changeable  love  of  his 
would  be  worthy  of  her  patient,  unaltering 
affection?" 

"No;  of  course  I  suppose  he  never  would 
be  worthy  of  her,"  Farnsworth  vacillated) 
following  Madge's  lead.  "He  couldn't  be 
and  have  fallen  in  love  with  the  other,  a  mar- 
ried woman,  first.  Not  that  I  blame  him  al- 
together for  that.  When  a  man  falls  in  love 
with  a  married  woman,  some  blame  must  be 
attached  to  the  woman  herself."  He  hesi- 
tated a  moment,  and  then  went  on:  "But 
then,  if  my  heroine  loved  him,  unworthy  as 
he  might  be,  would  not  happiness  follow? 
The  past  can  be  forgotten,  can  be  outlived." 

"I  think  you  are  wrong.  I  think  it  can- 
not be.  It  would  shock  you,  probably,  if  I 
told  you  what  I  thought." 

"No,"  he  said;  "I  know  what  you  mean, 
180 


CLYDE   FITCH 

and  I  have  thought  of  that.  But  if  he  and 
the  other  woman  should  go  away  together 
I  cannot  believe  that  would  be  happiness." 

"Oh,  you  are  here,"  said  Rita,  coming  into 
the  room.  "How  do  you  do?" — to  Farns- 
worth.  "Mamma  wishes  to  know  how  you 
feel,  Madge." 

She  felt  very  uncomfortable.  She  recog- 
nized the  fact  that  the  two  people  before  her 
were  intensely  moved  and  wrapped  up  in 
what  they  were  talking  of.  She  had  come 
into  the  room  with  as  much  stir  as  possible, 
but  until  she  spoke  they  had  not  seen  her. 
She  saw  the  manuscript  in  Farnsworth's 
hands:  it  was  on  a  different  block  of  paper 
from  the  manuscript  he  had  read  to  her  from. 
Then  he  was  reading  a  new  work  to  Madge : 
he  had  not  read  to  her  for  over  a  week  now. 

"Don't  let  me  disturb  you,"  she  said  to 

Farnsworth,  who  had  risen  and  was  offering 

her  the  big  chair  and  cushions.    "I  can't  stay, 

thanks."    She  spoke  in  a  strained  little  voice. 

181 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

She  turned  to  Madge  for  a  reply  to  her 
question. 

There  had  been  a  fierce  flash  of  anger  in 
Madge's  eyes,  but  it  had  died  away  now,  and 
instead  had  come  a  revulsion  of  feeling.  She 
did  not  want  Rita  to  go. 

"Oh,  I'd  forgotten  all  about  my  ankle," 
she  said,  "it's  so  much  better.  Mr.  Farns- 
worth  has  been  reading  me  parts  of  his  novel. 
Isn't  it  fine,  Rita?  Stay  and  hear  it." 

"I've  finished  now,"  said  Farnsworth; 
"but  don't  go,  Miss  Rita." 

"I — I  can't  stay.  I  promised  mamma  to 
write  some  notes  for  her."  And,  wondering, 
she  left  them,  puzzled  and  sad. 

"I  must  go  now,"  said  Farnsworth.  "I'm 
afraid  I've  stayed  too  long  as  it  is." 

"Yes,  I'm  afraid  you  have."  Madge  spoke 
in  a  sort  of  stage  whisper.     She  stood  up, 
leaning  heavily  against  the  back  of  a  chair. 
"It  is  my  fault,"  she  added. 
182 


CLYDE    FITCH 

"No!  oh,  no!"  said  Farnsworth,  gathering 
up  his  papers. 

"Good-bye,"  he  said,  but  did  not  offer  to 
take  her  hand. 

"Good-bye,"  she  answered  steadily,  and 
watched  him  go,  and  listened  till  she  heard 
the  street  door  close  behind  him. 

Then  she  saw  a  small  leaf  of  his  manu- 
script which  he  had  dropped.  It  lay  on  the 
floor  before  her,  and  she  recognized  the  first 
sentence  of  the  love-message  he  had  read  to 
her.  She  seized  it  in  her  hands,  kneeling 
down,  and  covered  it  with  kisses,  and, 
crouched  there  on  the  floor,  buried  her  face 
in  the  cushions  of  the  chair. 

She  was  distraite  all  through  dinner,  and 
went  early  to  her  own  room.  The  harder 
she  tried  to  think  and  reason,  the  more  con- 
fused her  thoughts  grew.  A  telegram  came 
for  her  from  Weldon,  but  she  did  not  open 
it:  she  let  it  lie  on  her  dressing-table.  She 
183 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

knew  it  was  from  Douglas,  who  had  proba- 
bly heard  from  her  of  her  accident. 

She  rang  and  had  her  violin  brought  to 
her,  and  played  to  herself  for  an  hour  or 
more.  At  times  while  she  played  the  tears 
rolled  down  out  of  her  eyes,  and  at  others 
she  almost  smiled,  and  finally  she  grew  quite 
calm. 

"It  has  come,"  she  thought.  "I  must  only 
find  if  it  has  come  too  late,  or  not."  To- 
night was  the  first  time  she  had  owned  to 
herself  that  she  loved  Cyril  Farnsworth, 
loved  him  better  than  joy  or  sorrow.  It 
was  the  sentiment  of  her  girlhood  for  the  un- 
known musician,  intensified  and  enlarged  by 
all  the  added  strength  that  comes  with 
womanhood. 

She  had  to  consider  her  duty  to  herself, 
her  duty  to  Douglas,  her  duty  to  Farns- 
worth, and  her  duty  to  Rita.  If  Farnsworth 
loved  her  as  strongly  as  she  loved  him  and 
as  she  thought  he  had  shown  that  afternoon, 
184 


CLYDE   FITCH 

she  did  not  believe  he  loved  Rita  or  ever 
would.  She  had  accepted  always  so  much 
from  Weldon  that  she  did  not  seem  to  hesi- 
tate at  this  new  sacrifice  of  making  him  give 
her  up;  but  she  could  not  bring  herself  so 
easily  to  sacrifice  Rita. 

She  wished  she  knew  how  much  of  himself 
Farnsworth  had  put  into  his  novel.  She 
could  not  blind  herself -to  the  fact  that  he 
had  been  devoted  to  Rita.  Dared  she  believe 
that  he  had  loved  Rita  at  first,  and  that  he 
now  came  to  her  with  a  stronger,  mightier 
devotion?  Or  ought  she  to  look  at  it  in  the 
light  of  her  stepping  in  between  her  sister 
and  Cyril,  inspiring  a  passion  which  would 
give  way,  if  she  withdrew  herself,  to  a  calmer 
love,  which  would  bring  both  her  sister  and 
this  man  real  happiness? 

In  that  case  she  would  be  married  to 

Douglas  Weldon,  or  else She  was  in  a 

measure  bound  to  Douglas  Weldon,  and 

Cyril  Farnsworth  knew  that.    But  they  were 

185 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

not  married;  the  tie  could  be  broken:  surely 
Cyril  did  not  think  it  insurmountable  al- 
ready !  He  had  not  tried  to  break  it ;  that  she 
must  acknowledge.  He  might  have  thought 
it  dishonorable.  Her  own  notions  of  honor 
were  somewhat  hopelessly  mixed. 

She  heard  Rita  come  upstairs  and  go  into 
her  room.  A  few  moments  after  she  crossed 
the  hall  with  her  cane,  and  joined  her.  She* 
found  her  sister  sitting  by  the  window,  with 
her  face  close  against  the  glass.  She  was 
looking  at  the  deep-blue  sky  and  thinking 
how  far  away  from  her  everything  seemed, 
and  how  long  it  would  be  before  morning, 
and  how  sad  and  lonely  she  was.  She  looked 
up,  startled,  when  Madge  came  in,  and  a 
little  afraid  of  her. 

"Rita,"  her  sister  said,  sitting  down  by  her 
side  and  putting  her  arm  around  her,  "talk 
to  me.  I  want  you  to  talk  to  me." 

"I  haven't  anything  to  say,"  answered 
Rita. 

186 


CLYDE   FITCH 

"But  surely  you  see  I  am  in  some  trouble?" 

"I  don't  know.  Oh,  Madge,  Madge,"  and 
she  turned  and  hid  her  face  in  her  sister's 
neck,  "why  must  you  take  him  away  from 
me?  You  had  Douglas;  wasn't  that 
enough?" 

Madge  could  not  speak.  She  rocked  her- 
self to  and  fro  on  the  bench,  with  Rita  held 
tight  in  her  arms. 

Finally  she  did  speak. 

"Rita,"  she  said,  "I'm  so  weak,  and  I  know 
I'm  cruel;  but  look  at  me,  and  tell  me,  does 
he  love  you?  do  you  know  he  loves  you?  has 
he  told  you  he  loves  you?  If  he  has,  I  prom- 
ise, I  promise  you  I  will  give  him  up." 

"I  cannot,"  sobbed  Rita.  "I  cannot." 
Her  tears  stopped.  "He  has  never  told  me 
in  so  many  words;  but  you  must  have 
seen,  Madge,  how  until  after  your  engage- 
ment with  Douglas  he  was  always  with  me. 
Then  I  began  to  see  less  of  him.  I  was  glad 
to  have  you  friends,  and  he  was  just  as  nice 
187 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

to  me,  of  course,  only  you  always  seemed  to 
make  him  go  to  you  before  long.  I  don't 
say  you  did  this  purposely,  Madge,  but  I 
don't  think  you've  acted  rightly  by  Douglas, 
nor  does  it  seem  to  me  that  you  can  love  me 
much.  If  you  loved  Farnsworth,  then  why 
did  you  accept  the  other?" 

"What  makes  you  think  I  love  Farns- 
worth?" 

"Don't  you?" 

Madge  did  not  answer. 

"Has — Cyril  told  you  he  loves  you?" 

"Yes."  Then,  after  a  pause,  "No,"  said 
Madge. 

"Then,  oh,  Madge,  perhaps  he  doesn't." 

Madge  smiled  as  if  she  did  not  believe  this. 

"Give  him  up;  give  him  back  to  me," 
pleaded  Rita.  "Perhaps  he  does  love  me, 
after  all.  Men  are  not  like  us,  and  it's  hard 
to  know.  I  think  you  almost  magnetise  him. 
It's  something  in  your  eyes.  I  feel  it  some- 
times too.  I  would  do  anything  in  the  world 
188 


CLYDE   FITCH 

for  you,  Madge;  you  know  it;  all  my  life 
I've  done  what  few  things  I  could  to  save 
you  trouble  or  to  give  you  pleasure;  but  I 
cannot,  and  I  will  not  of  my  own  accord, 
give  up  Cyril  Farnsworth,  nor  let  you  take 
him  from  me  if  I  can  help  it." 

Madge's  face  had  grown  hard  during  the 
latter  part  of  her  sister's  speech. 

"You  shall  give  him  up,"  she  said,  seizing 
Rita  by  the  wrists  and  holding  them  so  tight- 
ly that  Rita  almost  cried  out  from  the  pain. 
"How  dare  you  speak  so  to  me?  He  doesn't 
love  you ;  he  loves  me.  Has  he  not  shown  it? 
Are  you  blind?" 

Rita  bit  her  lips  to  keep  from  crying  as 
Madge's  fingers  tightened  again  about  her 
tender  flesh. 

The  anger  suddenly  died  away,  as  it  had 
that  afternoon  in  the  library,  and  Madge 
dropped  her  head  in  shame.  She  fell  on  her 
knees  on  the  floor  in  front  of  Rita,  and  cov- 
ered her  sister's  hands  with  kisses. 
189 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

"I  am  wicked  and  cruel,"  she  said — "false 
to  Douglas,  and  unnatural  to  you.  Forgive 
me,  Rita;  tell  me  you  forgive  me." 

"I  will  forgive  you,"  said  Rita  listlessly. 
Forgiving  Madge  did  not  bring  Cyril  back 
to  her. 

"I  am  so  miserable,  so  wretchedly  un- 
happy," Madge  said  in  a  voice  choked  with 
tearless  sobs. 

"Whose  fault  is  it,  Madge?"  Rita  an- 
swered, her  sympathy  for  her  sister  numbed 
by  what  she  had  just  gone  through. 

"I  will  give  him  up  to  you.  I  will  not  see 
him  willingly  until  I  am  a  woman  again  and 
Douglas  Weldon  is  back.  And  of  Douglas 
you  must  help  me  to  become  more  worthy." 

She  stood  up  and  kissed  her  sister's  fore- 
head, and  then,  leaving  her  still  by  the  win- 
dow, she  went  into  her  own  room,  wholly 
overcome  by  the  force  of  her  emotions.  But 
she  slept  calmly  all  night. 

Cyril  Farnsworth  went  straight  to  his 
190 


CLYDE   FITCH 

home  from  the  Synnetts.  He  had  barely 
time  to  dress  for  a  dinner  engagement.  He 
thought  for  a  second  of  sending  a  messenger 
with  some  excuse,  but  changed  his  mind. 
He  was  particularly  lively  and  witty  during 
the  dinner,  and  kept  both  his  vis-a-vis  and 
his  neighbor  laughing  most  of  the  time. 
Farnsworth  could  talk  easily  to  three  women 
at  once,  and  make  each  one  think  the  other 
two  were  boring  him. 

He  collapsed  somewhat  when  left  alone 
with  the  men,  and  took  his  leave  immediately 
after  rejoining  the  ladies  in  the  drawing- 
room,  on  the  plea  of  a  headache. 

"Too  much  inspiration  on  that  new  novel," 
said  his  hostess  pleasantly. 

"Or  too  little,"  he  replied. 

"We  will  be  the  judges  of  that,  when  we 
are  allowed  to  read  it,"  she  said. 

As  soon  as  he  had  left  the  house  his  pale- 
ness and  evident  illness,  his  brilliant  wit,  his 
personality  in  dress,  and  his  devotion  to  Rita 
191 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

Synnett,  were  generally  discussed  for  two 
minutes. 

Once  out  on  the  sidewalk,  he  looked  at  his 
watch.  It  was  after  eleven.  A  bright  full 
moon  smiled  cynically  down  upon  him  and 
whitened  the  broad  pavement  of  the  avenue. 
He  felt  dizzy,  and  as  if  he  were  not  walking 
straight,  although  he  had  taken  but  very 
little  wine.  It  was  a  cold  night,  and  there 
was  enough  motion  in  the  air  to  flicker  the 
shadows  of  the  bare  tree-branches.  There 
seemed  to  him  to  be  motion  everywhere,  and 
everything  seemed  to  be  unsettled;  even  the 
stars  twinkled  in  and  out,  and  now  and  then 
a  cloud  passed  indecisively  across  the  face 
of  the  moon. 

Farnsworth  walked  far  up  the  avenue,  and 
then  crossed  over  on  to  the  boulevard  and 
walked  on,  he  did  not  know  how  far.  He 
walked  till  the  moon  began  to  grow  gray  and 
the  eastern  hues  of  dawn  to  creep  into  the 
sky.  The  coming  sunrise  filled  him  with  an 
192 


CLYDE   FITCH 

emotion  which  threatened  to  unman  him, 
and  he  turned  and  hurried  home. 

He  fell  asleep  in  the  broad  daylight,  men- 
tally and  physically  exhausted,  having  re- 
solved only  upon  one  thing — the  need  to  re- 
sist the  mad  infatuation  for  Madge  Synnett, 
and  the  imperative  necessity  of  his  not  seeing 
her  again,  unless  he  heard  her  engagement 
to  Douglas  Weldon  was  broken. 

In  the  meantime  he  would  go  away  some- 
where. 


193 


CHAPTER  VII . 

IT  was  noon  when  Farnsworth  awoke.  He 
had  not  intended  going  to  church,  so 
took  no  heed  of  the  hour.  His  sleep  had 
done  him  but  little  good,  for  he  was  still 
tired  and  restless.  He  lay  quietly  for  some 
time,  thinking  of  Madge  Synnett. 

He  could  even  then  feel  the  influence  of 
her  personality,  and  this  influence  was  in- 
creased tenfold  by  the  fact  which  he  could 
no  longer  be  blind  to — that  she  loved  him. 
That  he  loved  her  he  had  never  dreamed  until 
yesterday;  and  now,  out  of  her  presence,  he 
doubted  if  he  did.  When  he  was  with  her 
there  had  been  no  questioning,  but  her 
beauty  and  sympathy  had  cast  a  spell  upon 
him,  and  he  would  have  laid  down  his  life 
for  her  if  she  had  asked  it.  Now,  out  of 
194 


CLYDE   FITCH 

sight  of  those  eyes  which  inspired  him  with 
the  sparks  of  genius,  away  from  the  possi- 
bility of  contact  with  those  fingers  which 
thrilled  him  with  an  inexplicable  mental 
ecstasy,  separated  from  that  presence  which 
was  always  in  sympathy  with  his  own  varied 
self  as  are  the  notes  of  a  common  chord  in 
music,  he  found  strength  and  time  to  ques- 
tion. 

Was  this  irresistible  attraction,  which 
came  suddenly  like  a  sweet  delirium  upon 
him  and  swept  away  his  power  of  reasoning, 
and  even  his  power  of  will — was  it  love? 

It  was  not  what  of  late  he  had  come  to 
think  of  as  his  ideal  love ;  that  he  knew.  Was 
his  ideal  out  of  his  reach,  too  high  for  him, 
and  was  this  that  especial  form  of  love  which 
was  given  to  natures  like  his?  Or  was  it 
possible  that  a  man  was  capable  of  both 
kinds,  and  a  choice  allowed  him?  Was  he 
capable  of  that  other  form,  his  ideal?  He 
thought  of  a  comparison  he  could  make,  but 
195 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

he  refused  to,  even  to  himself.  Over  and 
over  and  over  again  in  this  world  the  man 
is  blind  because  he  will  not  see. 

He  dressed  himself  and  had  his  breakfast, 
thinking  over  the  same  ground  again  and 
again.  When  he  stood  still  and  thought  only 
of  Madge  Synnett,  and  pictured  her  to  his 
mind  in  all  her  beauty,  her  great  eyes  mourn- 
ful with  the  secret  they  must  not  look,  her 
lips  trembling  with  the  love  they  must  not 
falter,  he  could  barely  keep  himself  from 
rushing  that  moment  to  her,  in  spite  of  her 
engagement  to  Weldon,  in  spite  of  every- 
thing. He  felt  at  such  a  moment  that  work 
was  nothing,  joy  and  sorrow  nothing;  there 
was  only  one  woman  in  the  whole  universe, 
and  that  was  she.  And  when  he  forced  him- 
self not  to  think  of  her,  but  to  think  of  both 
their  lives,  of  hers  and  his,  and  what  the  work 
was  that  he  wished  to  do,  and  what  his  ideal 
of  love  and  life  had  always  been,  he  cursed 
himself  for  his  weakness,  and  what  he  then 
196 


CLYDE   FITCH 

called  his  passionate  sentimentality,  and 
thought  only  of  escaping  Madge's  influence. 
That  was  the  final  outcome  of  his  mental 
struggle.  He  recalled  thankfully  that  noth- 
ing yet  had  been  said  by  either  that  was  abso- 
lute or  irremediable.  Indeed,  she  had«seemed 
to  recognize,  as  well  as  he,  the  impossibility 
of  their  being  anything  more  to  each  other 
than  they  then  were.  He  did  not  believe, 
somehow,  that  it  was  entirely  on  account  of 
her  engagement  to  Weldon;  for  engage- 
ments were  broken  every  day.  But  he  would 
not  be  the  means  of  breaking  Madge  Syn- 
nett's.  He  felt  again,  and  imperatively  too, 
thank  God,  the  need  for  him,  before  it  was 
too  late,  to  make  a  stronger  fight  against 
the  morbid  sympathy  and  oversensitiveness 
of  his  nature.  He  would  go  away  somewhere 
for  a  while,  as  he  had  decided  the  night  be- 
fore, until  everything  was  calm  and  Douglas 
Weldon  was  back.  In  love,  when  a  man 
turns  coward  he  is  apt  to  be  lost :  he  does  not 
197 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

often  run  away  and  live  to  love  another 
day. 

He  sat  down  at  his  desk  and  looked  over 
his  last  night's  letters,  which  were  still  un- 
opened. There  was  one  in  a  woman's  hand- 
writing which  he  did  not  know.  The  en- 
velope was  a  big  square  one,  and  the  letters 
of  the  address  were  large  and  striking.  The 
postmark  was  Cornwall-on-the-Hudson.  He 
opened  and  read  it  through  several  times, 
with  an  expression  of  surprise  and  bewilder- 
ment; then  he  laid  it  down  and  laughed. 

"It  makes  me  feel  better,"  he  said  aloud 
to  himself.  "There  is  happiness  in  the  world, 
if  we  only  know  where  to  look  for  it  and  how 
to  enjoy  it.  I  feel  as  if  I  had  been  living  in 
a  hot-house  and  this  letter  had  taken  me  into 
an  old-fashioned  garden.  It  makes  me  want 
to  go  and  see  Rita  Synnett ;  but  I  must  not. 
I  should  tell  her  everything.  I  always  do. 
I  will  accept  this  invitation,  however;  it  is 
just  what  I  wanted  to  do — go  away  some- 
198 


CLYDE   FITCH 

where.  And  I  like  that  woman:  she  is  true 
and  splendid.  I  will  take  the  afternoon  train 
to-morrow." 

He  sat  down  and  wrote  a  note,  and  posted 
it  when  he  went  out  later. 

He  rang  the  bell  at  the  Synnetts'  to  in- 
quire how  Miss  Madge  was,  but  refused  to 
go  in,  rather  to  the  maid's  surprise,  and  went 
away,  leaving  some  flowers  for  the  young 
ladies.  He  had  stopped  at  his  florist's  on 
his  way;  he  had  chosen  a  few  sprays  of 
jasmine,  which  the  man  happened  to  have, 
for  Rita,  and,  after  a  moment's  hesitation, 
some  queer  purplish  orchids  for  Madge.  He 
planned  to  write  to  Rita  from  the  country 
the  next  day,  explaining  his  absence  from 
town. 

Madge  Synnett  had  found  a  letter  too  that 
morning,  which  had  come  in  the  late  deliv- 
ery the  night  before,  directed  in  the  same 
hand  as  Farnsworth's.  She  wondered  what 
Mrs.  Norris  had  gone  down  to  Cornwall  for. 
199 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

She  read  Douglas's  letter  through  first — a 
kind,  loving,  clear  letter — that  his  business 
was  nearly  arranged,  that  he  would  be  back 
on  Wednesday,  that  he  felt  he  must  be  quite 
an  old  man  now,  it  was  so  long  since  he  had 
seen  her,  and  a  few  other  things  that  are 
quite  appropriate  for  a  personal  love-letter 
but  are  hardly  interesting  enough  for  indis- 
criminate publication.  Madge  felt  that  she 
did  not  deserve  the  letter. 

She  then  read  her  Cornwall  note  partly 
through,  with  an  exclamation  of  surprise  and 
delight. 

"Mamma!  Rita!"  she  said,  "do  listen 'to 
this." 

"Who  is  it  from?"  asked  Mrs.  Synnett. 
"Oh,  Mrs.  Norris.  I  can  tell  the  handwriting 
from  here." 

"No,  it  isn't;  it's  from  Mrs.  Galloway." 

"What!"  exclaimed  both  Rita  and  her 
mother. 

200 


CLYDE   FITCH 

"Yes.  Listen,  and  I'll  read  it  to  you: 
"  'My  DEAR  MADGE — What  do  you  think 
I've  done?  I've  married  that  brave,  good- 
looking  captain.  Did  it  Saturday  morning, 
and  only  made  up  my  mind  the  night  before. 
What  do  you  think  of  that?  I'm  fifty  years 
old  to-day!  I'm  only  sorry  I  didn't  do  it 
sooner.  The  world  has  seemed  twice  as  big 
and  beautiful  since,  and  not  a  lonely  spot  in 
it.  We've  come  down  here  for  a  week,  and 
we  want  a  few  people  in  the  house  with  us 
and  have  a  jolly  time  of  it  all  around.  There 
has  been  a  splendid  snowstorm,  on  which  a 
delicious  sun  is  sparkling.  (When  I  came 
into  the  breakfast-room  this  morning  the 
captain  pointed  out  of  the  window  and  said 
there  were  my  wedding  jewels  all  dis- 
played.) There  will  be  splendid  sleighing. 
You  are  to  come  Monday  morning,  and  I 
shall  send  for  Mrs.  Synnett  and  Rita  later  on 
in  the  week,  when  some  family  relations  who 
are  here  leave  us.  The  train  at  which  I  shall 

2OI 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

go  to  meet  you — we  shall  go  to  meet  you- 
leaves   the   Forty-second    Street    ferry    at 
eleven  o'clock.    Love  to  all. 
"  'Ever  yours, 

"  'MARGARET  GALLOWAY. 
'  'Margaret  Norris  has  disappeared.  Lost 
child.  Madge,  do  you  think  the  children  will 
call  him  father?  I  want  them  to,  so  much. 
You  know — or  you  don't  know,  but  you 
might  as  well,  now — that  Mr.  Norris  was  not 
a  good  man  to  them  or  to  me.' ' 

"How  funny!"  said  Mrs.  Synnett. 

"How  lovely!"  said  Rita. 

"Isn't  it  splendid!"  added  Madge. 

"Shall  you  go?"  asked  Mrs.  Synnett.  She 
didn't  exactly  understand  why  she  should 
not  have  been  asked  to  come  first,  and  the 
girls  to  come  later. 

Rita  watched  her  sister,  and  something 
like  a  smile  came  into  her  face  when  she 
heard  her  say — 

202 


CLYDE   FITCH 

"Of  course  I  shall  go.  My  ankle  won't 
keep  me;  and  when  Douglas  comes  back  I 
will  get  her  to  ask  him  down."  She  looked 
lovingly  at  Rita. 

"But  Mrs.  Nor — Galloway  doesn't  know 
you're  engaged,"  said  Mrs.  Synnett. 

"I  know  it ;  but  she  likes  Douglas,  and  will 
be  sure  to  ask  him  when  she  knows  he  has 
come  back;  and,  anyway,  I  would  be  quite 
willing  to  suggest  it  to  her." 

"Why  don't  you  announce  your  engage- 
ment down  there?"  suggested  Mrs.  Synnett. 

"I'm  not  ready  to,  yet,"  replied  Madge, 
turning  a  little  sharply. 

"I  don't  know  but  you  are  right,"  added 
her  mother.  "You  don't  want  the  world  to 
think  you  have  jumped  at  the  chance." 

Madge  simply  raised  her  eyebrows  and 
looked  at  Rita,  but  said  nothing. 

She  made  her  ankle  an  excuse  not  to  ap- 
pear in  the  music-room  that  night;  she  stayed 
in  the  little  library,  and  flirted  with  young 
203 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

Osprey  most  of  the  time,  in  a  somewhat  un- 
successful attempt  to  amuse  herself.  He 
was  a  very  boyish,  somewhat  conceited 
young  man,  but  usually  he  was  not  monoton- 
ous. 

He  confided  to  his  mother,  on  their  way 
home,  that  Madge  Synnett  was  a  "stunner," 
and  if  it  wasn't  for  the  differences  in  their 
ages,  and  her  lack  of  "shekels,"  he  would  "go 
in  for  her."  His  mother  listened  with  retro- 
spective pride,  he  was  so  like,  she  thought, 
what  she  was  at  his  age;  she  had  always  at- 
tracted both  the  old  and  young.  But  she 
should  keep  him  out  of  the  way  of  that  de- 
signing girl  and  her  mother.  "Willie"  must 
marry  a  fortune.  It  would  never  do  for  him 
to  marry  a  poor  girl.  He  was  a  born  gentle- 
man, non  fit.  His  was  one  of  those  aris- 
tocratic natures  that  sometimes  spring  up 
in  the  alien  soil  of  America,  for  whom  labor 
of  any  kind  was  not  intended.  He  was  being 
educated;  this  was  his  second  year  in  the 
204 


CLYDE   FITCH 

Freshman  class.  Mrs.  Osprey  did  not  be- 
lieve in  pushing  bright  boys. 

When  the  two  girls  were  alone  together, 
Rita  remarked  on  Farnsworth's  absence  dur- 
ing the  day. 

"I  wonder  why  he  was  not  here?"  mur- 
mured Madge. 

"I  wonder,"  echoed  Rita.  It  was  to  her 
as  if  no  one  had  been  there. 

"Rita,"  Madge  spoke  after  a  few  mo- 
ments, "I  never  knew  you  to  let  your  flowers 
go  without  water  before.  Your  jasmine  is 
lying  here  almost  dead." 

"Is  it?"  said  Rita  blankly.  "Somehow  I 
don't  seem  to  care  any  more." 

There  was  another  silence  between  them. 

"I  think  I  will  go  to  bed,"  said  Madge. 

"Good-night,"  was  all  that  Rita  answered. 

Mrs.  Synnett  went  with  Madge  to  the 
ferry.     She  had  been  trying  to  have  a  talk 
with  her  alone  for  several  days,  but  some- 
205 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

how  had  not  been  able  to  manage  it.  She 
wanted  to  ask  her  if  she  knew  what  was  the 
matter  with  Rita  the  last  few  days. 

"Is  there  anything  the  matter  with  her?" 
asked  Madge. 

"Yes,  there  is;  and  you  must  have  seen  it. 
Don't  pretend  you  haven't,  Madge.  I'm 
afraid  it's  about  Mr.  Farnsworth ;  and  if  she 
won't  take  me  into  her  confidence  I  don't 
wish  to  force  myself,"  said  Mrs.  Synnett, 
"but  I  do  hope  nothing  has  come  between 
them." 

"Come  between  them?"  whispered  Madge, 
half  to  herself. 

"Madge,  don't  echo  my  words.  I  thought 
you  knew  something  about  it.  Have  they 
had  a  quarrel?" 

"No,  I'm  sure  they've  not  had  a  quarrel." 

"I'm  glad  of  that.     Probably   it's    only 

some  of  her  ideal  notions  about  marriage, 

and  it  will  be  all  right  in  time.    I'm  sure 

they  love  each  other;  only  I  do  wish  she 

206 


CLYDE   FITCH 

would  make  more  of  a  confidante  of  me. 
No  one  knows  one's  children  better  than  their 
mother,  or  can  better  sympathize  with  them ; 
but  you  and  Rita — I  don't  say  this  bitterly, 
I  only  state  it,  for  it's  true — you  and  Rita 
never  seemed  to  realize  this  with  me."  She 
waited  for  some  answer,  but,  as  she  received 
none,  she  continued:  "I  think  I  may  say 
I  made  the  match  between  you  and  Weldon. 
I  planned  it,  and  hoped  and  prayed  for  it. 
I  saw  what  a  husband  he  would  make  for- 
you,  dear,  and  I  hope  you  will  be  very  happy, 
and  I  know  you  will  be."  There  was  a  little 
tremble  in  Mrs.  Synnett's  voice,  she  was  so 
happy  for  Madge.  She  did  love  her  so  fond- 
ly; and  she  loved  Rita  too.  "I  saw  how  it 
would  be  between  Rita  and  Mr.  Farnsworth 
from  the  first:  in  fact,  I  might  as  well  own 
up  to  you  that's  the  reason  I  asked  him  to 
the  house" — this  somewhat  triumphantly. 
"I  knew  he  would  appreciate  her." 

"Mamma     dear,"     interrupted     Madge, 
207 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

"people  can  overhear  us.  You're  a  dear, 
sweet  mother,  and  we  both  know  it ;  but  don't 
you  think  we'd  better  talk  about  something 
else?"  "I  shall  go  mad,"  she  thought,  "if 
she  doesn't  stop." 

"I  just  want  to  tell  you,"  Mrs.  Synnett 
added  in  a  lower  tone,  "that  several  people 
have  asked  me  about  Rita  and  Mr.  Farns- 
worth,  and  said  they  had  heard  they  were 
engaged :  so  you  see  I  can't  have  drawn  too 
much  from  his  attentions." 

"What  did  you  say  to  them?"  asked 
Madge. 

"Oh,  I  always  contradicted  it  flatly,  of 
course,  but  in  such  a  way  as  to  make  them 
sure  there  was  something  in  it." 

The  ferryboat  had  reached  the  slip.  They 
were  just  in  time  for  the  Cornwall  train, 
and,  after  a  hurried  good-bye  to  her  mother, 
Madge  found  herself  alone  with  her  thoughts 
in  a  seat  in  the  train. 

There  were  a  few  tears  under  her  veil, 
208 


CLYDE   FITCH 

but,  on  the  whole,  she  felt  happier  than  she 
had  been  for  some  time.  She  felt  she  was 
in  the  act  of  giving  up  Cyril  to  Rita,  and 
experienced  a  degree  of  satisfaction  in  hav- 
ing done  what  was  right.  In  the  excitement 
of  leaving  town  she  felt  stronger  than  she 
really  was,  perhaps,  and  surer  of  herself. 
But  it  was  a  step  in  the  right  direction,  and 
she  knew  it.  One  step,  however,  is  only  a 
tiny  portion  of  a  long  journey,  and  one 
action  a  small  part  of  a  whole  character. 
To  be  sure,  she  felt  that  if  an  accident  should 
happen,  as  accidents  did  on  railroads,  it 
would  not  so  very  much  matter.  Her  future 
life  was  a  riddle  which  she  was  not  sure  she 
wished  to  solve.  And  meanwhile  she  was 
nearing  her  journey's  terminus;  and  Rita 
was  thinking  what  a  brave,  strong  girl  she 
was,  and  how  happy  she  had  made  her,  and 
how  happy  she  must  make  herself,  in  the 
end. 

One  thing  Madge  was  determined  on,  and 
209 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

that  was  that  she  would  not  be  the  skeleton 
at  the  wedding-feast  of  her  friend  Mrs. 
Galloway.  She  told  herself  she  must  learn 
to  enjoy  others'  joy  and  to  live  altogether 
in  the  present.  One  never  knew  what  might 
happen.  So,  when  the  brakeman  shouted 
into  the  car  his  version  of  the  name  of  her 
destination,  Madge  nodded  smilingly  back 
to  a  tall,  handsome  couple  on  the  station  plat- 
form, and  showed  them  a  moment  later  an 
apparently  happy,  perfectly  unreadable 
countenance,  as  they  shook  hands  warmly, 
and  she  said — 

"Allow  me  to  kiss  the  bride." 

"And  you  may  kiss  the  groom  too," 
laughed  Mrs.  Galloway.  "I  share  every- 
thing with  my  captain." 

"Aren't  you  both  awfully  proud?"  Madge 
added,  as  they  seated  themselves  in  the  two- 
seated  cutter.  "You  ought  to  be." 

"We  are,"  smiled  Mrs.  Galloway,  "and 
I've  rechristened  our  place  'The  Barracks,' 
210 


CLYDE   FITCH 

and  the  captain  says  I'm  the  Daughter  of 
the  Regiment."    They  all  laughed. 

Madge  felt  invigorated  and  lifted  out  of 
herself.  The  snow  lay  thick  and  glittering 
everywhere,  like  diamonds,  with  the  air  deli- 
cately sharp  enough  to  cut  them.  There 
was  no  wind,  and  the  bare  branches  of  the 
trees  had  little  caterpillars  of  snow  stretched 
lazily  along  the  tops  of  them.  Their  own 
bells  and  those  of  other  sleighs  jingled  in  a 
pleasant,  pure  comedy  way,  and  the  road  was 
solid,  and  the  horses  went  at  a  fine  pace. 

Madge  wrapped  her  fur  about  her  neck 
tighter,  and  buried  her  face  for  a  warm  in- 
stant in  her  muff.  They  passed  some  small 
boys  on  the  road  trudging  along  with  their 
big-mittened  hands  hanging  down  like  hams 
at  their  sides,  and  their  woollen  scarfs,  as 
red  as  their  fresh  young  cheeks  and  noses, 
wrapped  round  and  round  their  necks  just 
below  their  merry  mouths. 

Madge  drew  in  a  long  breath. 
211 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

"Oh,"  she  exclaimed,  "this  is  delicious!" 

"Isn't  it  splendid?  I  can't  see  why  I. 
never  came  down  to  enjoy  it  before,"  said 
Mrs.  Galloway.  "I  suppose  it  was  that 
dreadful  newspaper.  I  hear  there's  an  aw- 
ful fight  after  my  place."  She  and  her 
husband  laughed  merrily. 

"She  has  confessed,"  said  Captain  Gallo- 
way, "that  the  sword  is  mightier  than  the 
pen." 

"There,"  his  wife  replied;  "if  I  hadn't  re- 
signed, I  should  put  that  in.  Let's  don't  go 
straight  to  the  house,"  she  added.  "We  have 
plenty  of  time."  And  Captain  Galloway 
turned  up  another  road. 

"I  am  enjoying  this  so  much,"  said 
Madge. 

"I  must  tell  you  who  are  to  be  with  us," 
Mrs.  Galloway  said. 

"That  reminds  me,"  interrupted  Madge. 
"Let  me  tell  you  first  that  mamma  and  Rita 
send  their  love,  and  mamma  suggested  to 

212 


CLYDE   FITCH 

me  the  advisability  of  letting  you  know  ac- 
cidentally that  she  had  no  engagements  for 
the  end  of  the  week.  I  think  she  really  wants 
to  come  down  very  much.  Now  go  on  and 
tell  me  who  are  here." 

"Well,  Alice  Lester,  because  I  knew  you 
liked  her,  and  her  brother — that  is,  he  is  to 
come  down  every  afternoon;  he  must  be  in 
his  office  during  the  day;  he's  a  splendid 
fellow,  has  killed  bears  in  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tains, and  all  that  sort  of  thing;  he  isn't  flirt- 
ing with  any  one,  and  so  makes  himself  gen- 
erally agreeable,  and  is  a  great  help.  Mrs. 
Hedder,  and  Algernon  Bolingbroke  en  con- 
sequence, and  they're  arranging  a  little  play 
to  give  in  the  ballroom  at  the  end  of  the  week. 
Lieutenant  and  Mrs.  Leeds,  the  captain's 
younger  sister  and  her  husband — such  dear, 
jolly  people,  who  have  commenced  to  call  me 
Sister  Meg.  I've  asked  Mrs.  Osprey  down 
for  one  day,  and  said  she  might  bring  along 
her  protection.  You  know  she  said  I 
213 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

wanted  to  get  married  and  couldn't;  and  I 
wanted  her  to  see  with  her  own  eyes,  else 
she  won't  believe  it.  There  are  several 
others  coming  down  to  spend  a  day,  and— 
oh,  yes,  I  forgot;  I've  asked  that  Mr.  Farns- 
worth  whom  you  introduced  to  me  at  your 
house,  whom  I  liked  so  much." 

Mrs.  Galloway  was  watching  her  young 
companion.  She  believed  there  was  some- 
thing between  these  two,  and  she  was  going 
to  help  it  along. 

Madge  was  something  more  than  unpre- 
pared for  this.  A  wave  of  strange  feeling 
seemed  to  sweep  over  her  whole  body.  She 
felt  it  from  her  head  to  her  feet.  Mrs.  Gallo- 
way saw  a  certain  change  of  expression,  and 
told  herself  she  was  right,  that  there  was 
something  between  them.  There  was  a  rut 
in  the  road,  which  shook  them  up  considera- 
bly, and  when  they  were  settled  again  Madge 
was  quite  composed. 

214 


CLYDE   FITCH 

"What  a  jolly  crowd!"  she  said.  "And 
when  does  Mr.  Farnsworth  come?" 

"He  comes  upon  the  next  train.  We'll 
send  this  cutter  right  back  for  him.  What 
are  you  throwing  away  those  beautiful 
orchids  for,  Madge,  you  extravagant  child?" 

"They're  useless  now,"  said  Madge.  "I 
didn't  want  them  any  longer." 

When  they  arrived  at  the  house  they  were 
welcomed  by  Alice  Lester  and  Captain  and 
Mrs.  Leeds,  who  were  just  going  for  a  walk. 
Madge  refused  to  go  with  them,  on  account 
of  her  ankle,  and  went  upstairs  to  her  own 
room  to  rest  until  lunch-time. 

She  threw  herself  on  the  bed  with  her  hat 
and  wraps  still  on. 

"There  is  a  fate  in  it,"  she  whispered  to 
herself.  "Here  I've  come  straight  to  the  one 
person  I  left  town  to  escape.  Why  struggle 
any  longer  against  it?  If  Cyril  Farnsworth 
loves  me,  why  should  not  he  and  I  be  happy 
together?  By  what  right  are  we  to  be  sac- 
215 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

rificed  for  the  others,  if  the  sacrifice  won't 
bring  them  happiness? — and  I  know  it 
won't/' 

She  sat  up  on  the  edge  of  her  bed.  All 
her  good  work  was  being  destroyed,  all  she 
had  accomplished  the  night  before  undone. 
A  feeling  of  this  came  over  her. 

"There's  no  use  in  my  exciting  myself  and 
going  all  over  this  again,  like  an  hysterical 
girl.  I've  decided  once  for  all.  I  have  made 
a  promise  to  Rita,  and  I  made  a  promise  to 
Douglas  before  that,  and  I  will  keep  them 
both."  She  propped  up  the  structure  of  her 
duty  with  this  resolve,  but  again  sentiment 
weakened  a  side,  and  it  threatened  to  topple, 
as  she  added  the  thought — 

"And  I  do  not  know  that  Cyril  does  love 
me.  It's  a  bad  sign  that  Rita  should  have 
been  able  to  make  me  doubt.  What  made 
Mrs.  Galloway  look  at  me  when  she  spoke 
of  Farnsworth?  Can  she  suspect  anything? 
No ;  of  course  not ;  if  she  did  she  would  only 
216 


CLYDE   FITCH 

think  it  all  right,  and  try  to  throw  us  to- 
gether. She  must  not  do  that.  I  wish  she 
knew  about  Douglas." 

She  was  taking  some  of  the  things  out  of 
her  hand-bag.  She  put  Weldon's  photo- 
graph on  the  table. 

"There,"  she  said,  "you  are  to  be  my  safe- 
guard. I  wonder  if  Mr.  Farnsworth  knows 
I  am  here,  or  if  he  will  be  as  surprised  as 
I  was.  Come  in,"  she  said,  in  answer  to  a 
rap  on  the  door. 

It  was  a  maid,  to  tell  her  luncheon  was 
served,  and  to  offer  to  unpack  her  boxes, 
which  had  just  been  brought  up.  Madge 
gave  a  few  directions,  a  final  touch  to  her 
hair,  a  questioning  look  at  herself  in  the 
glass,  and  went  downstairs. 

Farnsworth  had  been  prepared  in  some- 
what the  same  way  that  she  had  been.  He 

w 

arrived  while  the  ladies  were  in  their  rooms, 

and  had  learned  from  Bolingbroke — besides 

all  the  details  of  the  little  comedy    to    be 

217 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

played  Friday  night,  when  Mrs.  Hedder 
would  surprise  them  all,  really  surprise  them, 
by  doing  something  totally  different  from 
anything  she  had  before  attempted,  and  if 
successful  would  do  before  "The  Lady  of 
Lyons"  at  the  charity  performance  at  the 
Lyceum  Theater  on  the  30th — besides  this, 
he  had  managed  to  learn  who  were  in  the 
house. 

"Oh,"  Bolingbroke  said,  "besides  Mrs. 
Hedder  and  ourselves,  there  are  some  army 
people,  relatives  of  Captain  Galloway — 
awfully  jolly,  you  know,  but  of  course  not 
at  all  intellectual;  Miss  Lester  and  her 
brother — delightful,  both  of  them,  though 
she's  not  much  good  as  an  actress;  and  I 
believe  that  fascinating  girl,  Madge  Synnett, 
was  to  have  come  this  morning." 

"Did  she?"  asked  Farnsworth. 

"I  believe  so,  but  I  don't  know  surely," 
answered  Bolingbroke.    "Mrs.  Hedder  and 
I  have  been  rehearsing  until  just  now." 
218 


CLYDE   FITCH 

Farnsworth  was  already  thinking  hard ;  he 
would  leave  to-morrow  or  the  next  day;  he 
would  find  some  excuse,  without  letting  her 
know  that  he  was  running  away  from  her. 
They  must  meet  as  people  on  the  best  and 
gayest  of  terms;  that  was  the  only  way  for 
both  of  them.  He  wondered  if  Mrs.  Gallo- 
way had  told  her  he  was  to  be  there. 

They  met  in  the  breakfast-room,  with 
every  one  else.  He  had  intended  making 
some  conventional  remark,  but  he  could  not. 
They  shook  hands,  and  he  passed  on  to  Mrs. 
Hedder,  who  shrieked  a  welcome  to  him 
from  the  other  end  of  the  room.  But  in  that 
one  moment  they  both  knew  that  each  had 
been  surprised. 

It  did  seem  to  be  a  very  gay  party  of  peo- 
ple. Real  happiness  is  always  more  or  less 
infectious,  and  Captain  Galloway  and  his 
bride  were  full  of  joy  in  a  beautiful  big  way 
that  left  no  one,  as  it  were,  out  in  the  cold. 
Madge,  with  that  power  which  she  had  be- 
219 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

fore  made  use  of,  gave  herself  entirely  up 
to  the  surroundings  of  the  present  moment, 
and  Farnsworth,  in  his  efforts  to  appear 
merry  and  at  ease,  forgot  in  the  happiness 
of  the  others  that  he  was  not  what  he  seemed 
to  be. 

They  were  in  no  hurry  to  leave  the  dining- 
room;  and  the  women  stayed  while  the  men 
smoked  after  the  last  course.  Finally,  how- 
ever, they  began  to  break  up.  Mrs.  Hedder 
and  Bolingbroke  took  Miss  Lester  into  the 
ballroom  for  a  rehearsal,  and  Lieutenant  and 
Mrs.  Leeds  went  with  them.  Captain  and 
Mrs.  Galloway  took  the  two  children  out 
for  a  sleigh-ride  before  going  to  the  station 
for  Mr.  Lester.  Madge  and  Farnsworth 
were  left  alone.  Madge  hesitated  as  to  what 
she  should  do.  It  would  be  foolish  to  excuse 
herself,  and  it  would  be  a  confession  of  weak- 
ness in  her  own  eyes.  Somehow,  nothing 
seemed  actual  to  her.  It  all  seemed  a  dream, 
220 


CLYDE   FITCH 

and  had  seemed  like  one  since  early  morn- 
ing. 

"I  thank  you  now  for  the  orchids,'*  she 
said. 

"They  were  an  odd  color,  weren't  they?" 

"Very." 

"It's  a  pleasant  surprise  to  find  you  down 
here." 

Madge  looked  up  at  him  sharply.  How 
dared  he  speak  to  her  in  such  a  common- 
place way? 

"Oh,"  she  said,  "please  don't  be  conven- 
tional with  me." 

Farnsworth  was  wondering  what  had  be- 
come of  the  orchids.  He  knew  he  must  not 
ask. 

There  was  a  silence  between  them,  which 
they  both  felt  the  absolute  necessity  of 
breaking,  without  the  ability  to  do  so.  The 
harder  Madge  tried  to  think  of  something 
to  say  which  would  be  ordinary  but  not 
inane,  the  more  impossible  it  grew  for  her 
221 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

to  say  anything.  The  silence  became  un- 
bearable. 

"How  long  do  you  stay?"  she  questioned. 

"I'm  asked  for  a  week." 

Madge  waited  as  if  she  expected  him  to 
say  something  more.  Then,  thinking  only  of 
what  it  would  mean  to  her  if  he  should  re- 
main the  whole  week,  she  said — 

"But  you  won't  stay?" 

"Why  not?"  he  asked. 

He  had  decided  not  to,  but  he  thought  it 
best  not  to  tell  her  so.  She  must  not  know 
he  was  running  away  from  her.  He  hid  his 
weakness,  from  an  unconscious  fear  that 
if  she  knew  it  he  would  not  be  able  to  in- 
spire her  with  strength.  It  occurred  to  him 
now  that  this  was  the  opportunity  to  im- 
press upon  her  that  he  acknowledged  no 
strained  relations  between  them.  He  knew 
safety  for  her,  and  for  him  too,  lay  in  her 
believing  this.  He  must  force  her  to  ignore 
their  last  meeting  and  everything  that  might 
222 


CLYDE   FITCH 

have  resulted  from  it.  His  answering  ques- 
tion to  hers  was  unkind,  but  he  felt  it  nec- 
essary ;  his  own  unkindness  hurt  him  as  much 
as  it  did  her:  so  he  looked  away  from  her, 
and  said — 

"Why  not?" 

But  his  appearance  of  strength  only  mad- 
dened Madge.  If  he  had  been  weak,  per- 
haps she  might  have  been  stronger;  but  it 
stung  her  to  find  him  so  true  to  her  and 
himself.  It  made  her  feel  her  own  lack  of 
faith  to  Douglas,  and  also  made  her  doubt 
again  the  love  of  Cyril  for  her.  She  thought 
that  if  only  their  position  could  be  reversed 
she  would  appear  to  a  better  advantage  in 
his  eyes,  realizing  that  she  would  in  her  own. 
She  had  a  strange  confidence  in  her  own 
ability  to  be  the  strong  one,  and  all  the  time 
grew  weaker.  And  yet,  again,  with  the  won- 
derful perversion  of  her  nature,  his  strength 
and  manliness  increased  her  love  and  admira- 
tion for  him.  It  was  at  these  moments  that 
223 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

she  sympathized  fully  with  Cyril's  own 
struggle ;  but  invariably  these  moments  were 
replaced  by  the  other,  stronger  feeling. 

She  felt  once  more  she  must  know  if  he 
loved  her. 

"Cyril  Farnsworth,"  she  said,  rising,  "can 
you  ask  me  that?" 

Again  she  looked  at  him  with  wide-open 
eyes.  Again  Cyril  read  in  them  the  love  and 
passion  with  which  they  brimmed.  Again 
he  drank  in,  with  his  spirit,  the  sweetness 
that  her  lips  but  tremblingly  withheld. 

He  exerted  all  his  strength  and  power  of 
will  over  himself.  He  held  his  arms  crossed 
tight  behind  his  back.  A  thought  that  had 
hammered  at  his  heart  before  took  possession 
of  him.  He  tried  to  speak  it — to  tell  her 
they  had  been  flirting  together,  and  that  it 
was  time  to  stop.  Cruel  as  it  would  be  now, 
it  would  be  kind  in  the  end.  But  he  could 
not  do  it.  The  fatal  sympathy  between  them 
held  him  back.  He  doubted  if  she  would 
224 


CLYDE   FITCH 

believe  him,  and  if  she  should  he  dreaded  then 
her  hatred.  At  the  crisis  his  weakness  was 
uppermost,  and  he  failed.  He  stood  silent 
before  her.  He  raised  his  eyes  and  let  them 
tell  the  truth,  and  before  them  Madge's 
dropped. 

"I  see,  you  will  go,"  she  said,  and  left  him 
stupefied,  wondering  how  much  he  had  done 
and  undone,  and  how,  in  spite  of  everything, 
this  had  happened. 

Madge  went  to  her  room,  shut  herself  in, 
and  spent  a  couple  of  exhausting  hours  with 
herself.  She  held  Douglas  Weldon's  picture 
tightly  in  her  hand,  and  scribbled  Rita's 
name  all  over  a  piece  of  paper  on  the  table 
by  which  she  sat,  as  if  these  things  helped  her. 
Just  before  she  went  down  to  dinner  she  sent 
word  she  would  like  to  see  Mrs.  Galloway 
a  few  moments.  "It  is  the  one  thing  to  do : 
it  will  be  the  best  protection  I  can  have 
against  myself  and  him.  He  will  see  I'm 
not  too  weak  to  do  what  I  decide  is  best  or 
225 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

right,  and  he  may  stay  on  if  he  likes.  We 
will  not  be  likely  then  to  be  thrown  to- 
gether." 

When  Mrs.  Galloway  came  in,  she  tried 
not  to  look  hard,  for  she  did  not  want  her 
friend  to  know  she  was  less  happy  than  she 
herself. 

"I  want  to  let  you  into  a  little  secret  of 
mine,"  she  said,  "first,  before  any  one  else. 
I  am  engaged  to  be  married  to  Douglas 
Weldon.  And  I  thought  perhaps  you  would 
ask  him  down.  He  is  coming  back  to  town  on 
Tuesday  night  or  Wednesday." 

Mrs.  Galloway  was  very  much  surprised; 
it  rather  upset  a  little  plan  of  her  own,  too; 
but  she  remembered  that  she  had  surprised 
everybody  and  that  she  did  not  have  a 
monopoly  on  surprises.  Besides,  she  had 
always  liked  Weldon  exceedingly,  and  then 
altogether  she  began  to  think  it  was  just 
the  thing,  after  all.  It  must  have  been  Rita 
Farnsworth  liked,  and  she  had  been  so  taken 
226 


CLYDE   FITCH 

up  with  her  own  affairs  of  late  she  had  not 
noticed  the  direction  matters  were  taking  at 
the  Synnetts'.  At  the  same  time  that  she 
thought  of  these  things,  she  remembered 
Weldon  had  a  lot  of  money  and  Madge  had 
none ;  that  he  was  strong  and  matter-of-fact, 
and  Madge  over-sensitive  and  delicate;  that 
he  would  probably  bear  with  any  amount  of 
flirting  on  Madge's  part,  and  never  dream 
of  flirting  himself;  and  that  he  was  gener- 
ous and  true:  so  she  kissed  Madge,  and  told 
her  she  had  not  the  least  doubt  it  was  made 
in  heaven  along  with  hers.  She  said  she  was 
so  glad  for  her  that  she  even  felt  happier 
than  before — something  she  had  supposed 
an  impossibility. 

She  was  delighted,  too,  when  she  found 
she  was  to  announce  it  at  dinner  that  night, 
and  said  they  would  all  drink  her  a  "rousing 
bumper." 

And  Madge  was  satisfied. 

No  one  else  was  surprised  besides  Mrs. 
227 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

Galloway.  Other  people  had  been  expect- 
ing this  for  some  time.  Mrs.  Hedder  said 
Madge  would  make  a  very  effective  bride, 
and  her  mother  would  probably  give  her 
away,  which  always  seemed  to  add  a  little 
novelty  to  a  wedding  scene. 

They  drank  her  health,  and  Weldon's,  and 
Captain  and  Mrs.  Galloway's,  and  their 
glasses  clinked,  and  their  laughter  mingled. 
They  all  talked  at  once,  under  the  excite- 
ment of  the  jollity  and  the  wine,  and  the 
servants,  looking  on,  thought  how  happy 
every  one  was. 

Madge  was  following  the  laughter  and 
repartee,  and  absolutely  not  thinking.  But 
Farnsworth  was  thinking  in  spite  of  it  all. 
He  felt  they  were  now  completely  separated, 
and  with  the  belief  that  she  was  lost  to  him 
irretrievably  came  the  increased  longing  for 
her,  the  rash  desire  to  call  her  his  own  in 
face  of  everything. 

Oh,  men!  oh,  children!  it  is  always  the 
228 


CLYDE    FITCH 

moon,  the  beautiful,  silvery,  changing  moon, 
that  we  cry  for.  Life  puts  her  fingers  on 
our  lips,  touches  our  hand,  and  says,  "Thou 
shalt  not,"  and  straightway  lips  grow  wish- 
ful, hands  stretch  out  grasping,  and  we  say, 
"Why  not?  We  will." 


229 


CHAPTER  VIII 

BREAKFAST,  Mrs.  Galloway  told 
them  the  night  before,  was  a  "mova- 
ble feast"  and  "come  as  you  please."  She 
said  she  never  knew  when  she  went  to  bed 
what  time  she  wanted  to  get  up,  but  when 
she  was  ready  she  appeared,  and  she  had 
always  found  breakfast  there.  It  seemed  to 
be  a  sort  of  supernatural  gift  on  the  part  of 
her  servants. 

A  perfect  morning  had  the  effect  of  bring- 
ing most  of  the  party  together  before  ten 
o'clock.  Madge,  expecting  when  she  had 
retired  for  the  night  not  to  sleep  a  bit,  had 
on  the  contrary  slept  splendidly  in  the 
bracing  atmosphere  of  the  country,  and 
awoke  refreshed  and  rested. 

She  felt  almost  as  if  she  were  already  mar- 
230 


CLYDE    FITCH 

ried  to  Douglas,  since  the  announcement  of 
her  engagement  to  him.  She  was  glad  in 
the  morning  that  she  had  announced  it.  It 
only  seemed  to  her  that  Farnsworth  had 
taken  it  rather  coolly:  of  course  he  had 
known  it  before,  but  still  there  was  some- 
thing different  between  a  public  and  a  pri- 
vate engagement.  She  did  not  think  Farns- 
worth was  moved  easily,  or  rather  that  he 
showed  it  when  he  was.  The  previous  aft- 
ernoon was  the  only  occasion  she  could  re- 
member when  he  seemed  to  have  entirely  for- 
gotten himself.  She  had  been  moved  more 
easily  and  more  often  than  he — which  was 
not  as  it  should  be. 

She  asked  herself,  while  dressing,  if  it  was 
possible  that  he  had  been  flirting  with  her; 
but  she  would  not  believe  that ;  she  could  not 
believe  that,  remembering  his  eyes  as  he 
looked  into  hers  yesterday.  Only,  she  would 
give  worlds  to  know  how  much  he  really 
cared  for  her,  even  now.  She  felt  sure  of 
231 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

one  thing,  that  he  would  not  marry  Rita 
unless  he  loved  her.  Suppose,  then,  he  did 
marry  Rita:  what  would  it  prove?  Would 
it  prove  that  he  had  never  loved  her — 
Madge?  Absurd!  If  he  never  truly  had, 
would  he  dare  believe  then  that  she  had  really 
loved  him,  as  she  had  only  too  plainly  shown  ? 
This  would  be  insulting  to  her,  and  to  Wei- 
don.  But  to  look  at  it  in  that  light  was  to 
face  her  own  conduct  toward  Douglas,  and 
this  she  had  not  the  heart  to  do.  Was  it 
possible  that  a  man  could  love  two  women 
at  once?  She  wished  she  could  stop  think- 
ing about  these  things:  it  never  did  any 
good :  it  always  only  confused  her,  and  weak- 
ened her  in  the  end. 

She  made  up  her  mind  that  when  Douglas 
came  back  she  would  have  an  honest  talk 
with  him.  She  would  explain  to  him  just 
how  much  she  loved  him,  if  he  would  let  her, 
and  just  how  much  she  did  not,  if  she  could 
do  it  delicately.  If  still  he  wished  to  marry 
232 


CLYDE   FITCH 

her,  she  was  ready.  She  went  so  far  as  to 
experience  some  pleasure  in  the  fact  of  how 
much  it  would  please  Weldon  to  learn  she 
had  announced  their  engagement. 

Another  thing  she  was  determined  on,  and 
that  was  to  treat  Farnsworth  differently. 
She  would  like  to  puzzle  him  a  little  about 
herself,  as  she  was  puzzled  about  him.  She 
had  finished  her  dressing  by  this  time,  and 
went  down  to  the  breakfast-room  feeling 
quite  safe,  with  Douglas  coming  to-morrow 
and  every  one  in  the  house  knowing  that  she 
was  going  to  marry  him. 

She  was  the  last  one.  Some  had  finished, 
and  were  looking  out  of  the  windows ;  others 
were  still  sitting  by  the  table,  talking.  It 
was  another  perfect  day.  The  sky  and  the 
earth  together  were  like  a  great  flawless 
turquoise  set  in  bleached  ivory,  only  here 
and  there  the  dazzling  sun  on  the  crusted 
snow  lighted  it  into  the  colors  of  mother-of- 
pearl. 

233 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

Madge  was  greeted  with  a  burst  of  good- 
humored  raillery  from  them  all.  Alice  Lester 
was  the  last. 

"You've  a  letter  from  him,  Madge,  and 
we're  all  dying  to  hear  what  he  says." 

Madge  blushed,  and  took  up  Weldon's 
letter. 

"Oh,  come,  you  must  read  it  aloud,"  said 
Bolingbroke. 

"Very  well,"  answered  Madge.    "Listen: 

"  'Honored  lady' " 

There  was  a  chorus  of  "Oh!"s.  Madge 
was  hastily  reading  through  the  letter,  which 
was  a  short  one. 

"Go  on,"  urged  the  others. 

"'Yours  respectfully,  D.  W.',"  said 
Madge,  laughing. 

And  Lieutenant  Leeds  said — 

"Quite  proper.  Exactly  like  mine." 
Whereat  Mrs.  Leeds  was  visibly  affected. 

After  she  had  finished  her  breakfast, 
Madge  joined  one  of  the  groups  at  the  win- 
234 


CLYDE   FITCH 

dow.  Mrs.  Galloway  was  walking  down  the 
path  with  the  two  children. 

"Where  is  she  going?"  Madge  asked. 

"Nowhere,"  some  one  answered.  "She  said 
she  would  take  the  children  for  a  bit  of  a 
stroll  and  get  her  morning's  rouge  on." 

"Have  you  ever  noticed  how  splendidly 
Mrs.  Galloway  walks?"  asked  Madge,  turn- 
ing around,  and  finding  Farnsworth  just 
behind  her.  "Really  you  don't  seem  to  no- 
tice how  she  does  walk,  but  while  you're 
admiring  her  carriage  she  'gets  there.' ' 

Farnsworth  smiled,  and  said  he  had  no- 
ticed it.  He  thought  he  had  never  seen 
Madge  look  more  radiant:  she  looked  like  a 
different  girl  from  yesterday. 

"Let's  put  on  our  wraps  and  go  out  to 
Mrs.  Galloway  and  the  children,"  she  said 
to  him.  "A  little  walk  won't  hurt  my  ankle." 
She  did  not  wait  for  a  reply. 

"Good-bye,"  she  said  to  the  others 
235 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

in  the  room.  "We're  going  to  meet 
our  hostess." 

"Oh,  it  isn't  fair,"  cried  Mrs.  Hedder; 
"you're  engaged,  and  you're  going  off  with 
the  only  eligible  young  man." 

"Come,"  said  Bolingbroke,  "that's  hard  on 
me." 

"It's  your  own  fault,"  laughed  Mrs. 
Hedder.  "You've  been  a  bachelor  so  long, 
you're  as  ineligible  as  if  you  were  mar- 
ried." 

"Oh,"  exclaimed  Madge,  as  she  stepped 
off  the  piazza  and  breathed  in  the  cool,  fresh 
air,  "it's  like  drinking  pure  soda-water,  isn't 
it?" 

It  was  slippery,  and  Farnsworth  offered 
Madge  his  arm.  She  accepted  it,  but  only 
touched  it  lightly,  so  that  he  hardly  knew  her 
hand  was  there.  They  laughed  and  chatted 
in  perfect  good  faith,  and  stood  together  for 
a  moment,  praising  the  day  and  the  view. 
One  of  the  children,  a  little  girl,  came  up  to 
236 


CLYDE   FITCH 

Madge  and  slipped  her  small  hand  into  her 
muff.  Madge  stooped  down  and  kissed  her. 
The  child  stood  on  tiptoe  and  whispered  to 
Madge,  pointing  to  her  mother — 

"Have  you  seen  her  big  captain?" 

"Yes,"  whispered  Madge  in  return. 

"Isn't  he  nice?"  exclaimed  the  child. 

"Yes,  indeed  he  is,"  said  Madge  emphatic- 
ally. 

"Well,"  whispered  the  child  proudly,  "I'll 
tell  you  something.  He's  our  father." 

Then  they  strolled  on  back  to  the  house. 

Later,  when  they  were  all  together  in  the 
big  hall,  Mrs.  Galloway  came  in  with  a  set 
of  plans  and  arrangements  to  scatter  them. 
The  three  who  must  rehearse  must  get  it  all 
through  with  in  the  morning,  because  they 
were  going  down  to  the  skating-pond  of  a 
not  distant  neighbor  in  the  afternoon,  to 
skate,  and  to  have  tea  in  a  little  ice  palace 
afterward.  Lieutenant  and  Mrs.  Leeds  had 
to  pay  some  farewell  calls,  which  also  must 
237 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

be  done  during  the  morning.  Captain  Gallo- 
way and  herself  were  going  to  meet  Mrs. 
Osprey  and  her  son,  who  were  coming  on 
the  noon  train.  There  was  a  cutter  and  the 
captain's  own  horse  at  the  disposal  of  Farns- 
worth  and  Madge  Synnett. 

"Now,"  she  said,  "we  have  military  disci- 
pline, and  every  one  must  obey.  Douglas 
Weldon  is  coming  to-morrow  and  Mrs.  Syn- 
nett and  Rita  Friday.  There's  the  schedule, 
time-table,  carte  du  jour,  and  list  of  attrac- 
tions of  The  Barracks." 

Madge's  first  thought  was  that  she  must 
get  out  of  driving  with  Farnsworth  in  some 
way ;  but  while  she  was  trying  vainly  to  think 
of  any  excuse  she  changed  her  mind,  think- 
ing she  was  not  afraid  for  herself,  and  that 
if  any  one  was  to  disarrange  Mrs.  Gallo- 
way's plans  it  was  for  him  to  do  so.  Besides, 
they  had  spent  the  morning  so  far  in  the 
pleasantest  sort  of  way,  and  why  shouldn't 
it  be  finished  as  it  had  been  begun  ?  Her  im- 
238 


CLYDE   FITCH 

pulse  was  to  go,  and  impulse  was  her  deus 
ex  machina. 

Farnsworth  said  nothing.  Perhaps  it  was 
because  he  wanted  to  go. 

While  they  all  stood  in  the  hall  the  cutter 
was  driven  up  in  front  of  the  door.  Madge 
went  upstairs  to  get  an  extra  wrap,  lest  she 
should  be  cold  driving.  In  her  own  room 
she  hesitated  an  instant.  She  knew  she  ought 
not  to  go  in  the  cutter  with  Farnsworth.  She 
tried  to  think  of  some  excuse  to  send  down- 
stairs which  would  not  arouse  suspicion.  She 
felt  a  foreboding  that  more  depended  on  this 
moment  than  she  knew  or  could  realize.  She 
also  knew  that  she  was  strangely  happy  in 
the  company  of  this  man,  and  the  danger  of 
that  happiness  to  herself  only  lent  an  extra 
pleasurable  emotion.  She  was  determined 
to  go.  Never  in  her  life  had  Madge  Synnett 
learned  to  act  contrary  to  her  longings,  and 
it  was  too  late  to  begin  now.  She  left  the 
room  without  having  looked  once  toward  her 
239 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

dressing-table,  where  Douglas  Weldon's 
picture  was,  purposely. 

They  were  all  waiting  to  see  them  off,  and 
wondering  why  she  was  so  long.  There 
were  several  witticisms  made  about  Weldon, 
and  Mrs.  Hedder  promised  to  tell  and  warn 
him.  Mrs.  Galloway  said  she  would  be  an- 
swerable for  his  willingness. 

Just  as  Madge  stepped  into  the  sleigh  she 
saw  a  little  frozen  bird  in  the  snow.  She 
stooped  to  pick  it  up,  but  changed  her  mind, 
as  the  poor  thing  was  already  dead,  and  left 
it  lying  in  its  great,  cold,  white  grave.  But 
the  sight  had  moved  her  pity.  All  her  earlier 
bonhomie  seemed  to  have  disappeared.  Her 
hand  as  it  touched  Farnsworth's,  getting  into 
the  cutter,  trembled  as  it  had  before  the  aft- 
ernoon he  kissed  it,  and  startled  Farnsworth 
again,  and  made  him  stumble  as  he  took  his 
seat. 

The  people  stood  on  the  piazza,  laughing 
and  shouting  to  them.  The  two  in  the  sleigh 
240 


CLYDE   FITCH 

shouted  something  back.  Alice  Lester  made 
a  clumsy  snowball  and  flung  it  aimlessly 
after  them,  and  with  a  sound  of  bells  and 
crunching  snow  they  were  off. 

"I'm  almost  sorry,"  thought  Mrs.  Gallo- 
way, "it's  not  Farnsworth  instead  of 
Weldon;  but  perhaps  he  is  better  suited  to 
Rita." 

Mrs.  Hedder  led  the  way  to  the  ballroom 
and  the  rehearsal,  and  Lieutenant  and  Mrs. 
Leeds  started  down  the  path,  taking  the  chil- 
dren with  them.  Lester  had  gone  back  to 
town  and  business  on  the  early  train. 

Meanwhile,  the  two  in  the  cutter  were 
gliding  swiftly  over  the  snow.  To  neither 
did  the  beauty  of  the  day  appeal  any  longer: 
they  were  wrapped  up  in  their  two  selves, 
and  saw  nothing  when  they  did  not  see  each 
other.  They  went  on  for  some  time  in 
silence. 

Madge  was  not  wishing  herself  back  now; 
she  was  morbidly  enjoying  the  pleasure  of 
241 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

going  at  a  swift  pace  over  the  shimmering 
road  with  this  man,  they  two  out  of  reach  as 
it  were,  for  the  time-being,  of  the  whole 
world.  It  was  a  dangerous  channel  for  her 
thoughts  to  lie  in. 

And  Farnsworth,  taking  the  first  turning, 
not  knowing  or  caring  where  it  led  to,  was 
letting  his  imagination  run  riot  with  his 
better  sense.  All  his  gaiety,  too,  had  disap- 
peared, but  he  felt  uneasy  and  restless.  They 
came  suddenly  on  a  beautiful  view  of  the 
river.  He  pointed  it  out  to  Madge,  and  she 
echoed  his  exclamation  of  wonder. 

Once  she  shivered.  He  looked  at  her 
quickly,  and  asked — 

"Are  you  cold?    Shall  we  turn  back?" 

"No,"  she  answered,  "no."  Ajid  she  re- 
turned his  gaze,  and  smiled  at  him  a  little 
pitifully.  There  was  a  line  between  his  eye- 
brows that  was  not  always  there. 

Farnsworth  was  struggling  mightily  with 
himself.  All  the  feeling  of  yesterday  had 
242 


CLYDE   FITCH 

come  back  to  him.  Again  he  felt  influenced 
by  every  breath  she  breathed.  He  was  try- 
ing not  to  give  himself  up  to  the  enjoyment 
of  a  terrible  delight  that  the  ride  was  giving 
him,  Madge  Synnett  here  by  his  side,  racing 
against  the  wind — and  perhaps  the  world. 

The  horse  was  a  magnificent  animal,  and 
sniffed  the  morning  air  with  as  much  evident 
joy  as  they  experienced,  bounding  on  over 
the  snow  like  a  racer.  For  a  while  they 
made  an  effort  to  talk,  but  their  conversation 
was  in  bits,  and  so  forced  or  broken  as  to  be 
almost  ludicrous,  and  again  they  were  silent. 

They  took  no  heed  of  time. 

Madge  was  uncontrollably  happy  and 
wretched  at  once. 

It  was  Farnsworth  who  finally  broke  down 
the  barrier  between  them. 

"Madge,"  he  said,  "I  cannot  stand  this. 
I  must  take  you  back."  He  turned  reso- 
lutely up  a  cross-road  as  he  spoke.  "In  spite 
of  all  honor  and  manliness,  I  shall  forget 
243 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

Weldon  and  yourself,  and  tell  you  what  I 
must  not." 

Madge  did  not  answer,  but  a  great  throb 
of  joy  seemed  almost  to  take  her  breath  away 
from  her.  He  did  love  her,  then !  Well,  why 
should  he  not  say  it?  Who  was  Weldon,  or 
any  one  else,  to  say  he  should  not?  Fate 
said  he  should.  Fate  had  thrown  them  to- 
gether until  it  was  too  late  to  take  them 
apart.  She  felt  this,  but  she  could  not  tell 
him  so. 

"Forgive  me,  Madge,"  he  said,  "but  I  am 
suffering." 

"Suffering!"  she  cried,  a  note  so  full  of 
pain  it  seemed  to  beat  against  his  heart  and 
wet  his  eyes  with  tears. 

"My  God!"  he  said,  "and  you  too  suffer? 
Then  you  do  love  me?" 

"Love — you!"  repeated  Madge,  in  a  voice 
that  despised  the  feebleness  of  the  word 
which  it  was  forced  to  use,  a  voice  that  filled 
244 


CLYDE   FITCH 

the  syllable  with  meaning  and  burst  it  in  its 
passionate  excess. 

"Love — you!"  she  said  again,  and  bowed 
her  head. 

He  waited  a  moment,  and  then  he  turned 
to  her. 

"Look  at  me,  Madge,"  he  said. 

Her  eyelids  quivered  like  the  wings  of  a 
little  fledgling,  and  then  she  uncovered  the 
windows  of  her  soul,  which  bade  him  enter 
and  see.  Farnsworth  looked  into  them,  and 
saw  what  he  had  before  only  half  believed, 
and  in  them  too  saw  the  reflection  of  his  own. 
Every  pleasurable  emotion  he  had  ever  ex- 
perienced seemed  crowded  into  one.  It  was, 
while  he  gazed,  as  if  he  were  listening  to  the 
sublimest  of  music,  and  looking  at  the  most 
perfect  painting  that  ever  hung  behind  an 
altar.  It  was  as  if  he  breathed  in  perfumed 
air  from  flowered  deserts  and  drank  am- 
brosial nectar  from  fabled  fountains.  She 
was  as  beautiful  as  a  dream,  and  as  real. 
245 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

Slowly  his  head  dropped  till  his  lips  touched 
hers. 

The  horse  made  a  sudden  start  and  turned 
violently  to  one  side,  frightened  by  a  dark 
bunch  of  withered  flowers  in  the  road.  The 
snow  had  drifted  there,  and  the  steel-shod 
hoofs  of  the  horse  broke  through  the  crust, 
and  before  Farnsworth  could  obtain  control 
over  him,  the  horse,  thoroughly  frightened, 
was  running  like  mad. 

Farnsworth  was  not  an  athlete,  and  seldom 
or  never  drove.  He  did  all  he  could  do, 
which  was  to  pull  with  all  his  strength  on  the 
reins,  but  it  had  no  more  effect  with  the  ter- 
rified animal  than  if  he  had  been  a  playing 
child. 

They  tore  around  a  sharp  corner,  just 
grazing  a  fence,  and  were  turned  partly  over, 
but  managed  to  get  righted.  Madge  sat  per- 
fectly still,  but  clung  to  him.  They  were 
now  on  a  road  where  there  was  but  little 
snow  and  more  danger.  Farnsworth  did  not 
246 


CLYDE   FITCH 

know  how  soon  they  would  be  by  the  Storm 
King  embankment,  and  he  cried  out  as  he 
thought  of  their  chances  of  being  dashed  over 
it.  Even  then  they  came  in  sight  of  this  very 
danger. 

"Can  you  jump  out?"  he  said  to  Madge. 

"Why?"  she  asked. 

"Don't  wait  to  ask,"  he  answered.  "That 
is  death  ahead  of  us." 

"Then,"  she  said,  "we  will  meet  it  to- 
gether." 

"Great  God!  what  do  you  mean?" 

"I  mean  that  I  choose  death  with  you  to 
the  chance  of  life  without  you!"  And  she 
flung  her  arm  about  his  neck. 

"You're  mad !"  he  said.  "Come,  and  I  will 
jump  with  you — now!" 

"No!"  she  screamed,  in  her  excitement, 
clinging  to  him  with  both  her  hands,  and 
holding  him  back.  "Don't  you  see?  don't 
you  understand?  it  is  the  easier  thing  to 
stay." 

247 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

They  swayed  to  one  side  with  the  cutter. 
He  seized  her  wrists  and  held  them  both  in 
one  hand,  and  put  the  other  around  her 
waist. 

"Come!"  he  shouted,  and  clenched  his 
teeth. 

They  were  almost  on  the  edge  of  the  em- 
bankment, but  before  he  could  spring  with 
her  out  of  the  sleigh  it  stopped,  and  they 
were  thrown  back  against  the  seat,  unhurt. 
The  traces  had  broken,  and  they  looked  up 
in  time  to  see  the  horse  give  one  leap  into  the 
air  and  disappear,  and  they  knew  that  he 
had  fallen  to  the  river.  Farnsworth's  arm 
tightened  around  the  girl.  Her  head 
dropped  upon  his  shoulder. 

"Madge,"  he  said,  bending  over  her,  "are 
you  hurt?" 

"No,"  she  answered,  "but  I  want  to  cry  a 
little— only  I  can't." 

Farnsworth  stood  up  beside  her,  thinking. 
He  was  trying  to  recollect  where  he  was,  and 
248 


CLYDE   FITCH 

where  he  had  been  that  morning,  and  what 
it  was  that  had  happened  since  then — what 
it  was  that  made  him  feel  as  if  his  life  were 
lived,  and  that  the  life  of  another  man  now 
lay  before  him. 

"And  what  now?"  asked  Madge.  "Cyril, 
the  horse  will  not  have  to  go  back." 

She  smiled  a  little  bitterly.  She  was  won- 
dering how  she  could  return  to  that  house  to 
Rita  and  to  Douglas.  There  was  the  effect 
in  her  mind  of  a  wild  hope  which  she  did  not 
dare  to  formulate. 

"We  can  never  go  back  to  where  we  were 
this  morning,"  Farnsworth  said. 

He  was  thinking  of  what  had  passed  be- 
tween them  since  then  on  the  road.  He 
meant  since  they  had  broken  faith  with 
Douglas  and  with  their  own  selves  each 
could  never  go  back  to  the  same  place  in  his 
or  her  life.  They  had  proved  themselves 
unworthy  of  the  trust  placed  in  them.  He 
tried  to  understand  the  new  chaos  in  which 
249 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

his  mind  and  heart  were.  The  being  brought 
face  to  face  with  death  had  somehow  changed 
things  to  him,  and  placed  his  own  self  in  a 
clearer  light,  which  had  illumined  even  his 
feeling  for  Madge  Synnett.  He  saw  the 
truth  and  grasped  it  at  last,  but  the  revela- 
tion had  come  too  late. 

"Cyril,"  exclaimed  Madge,  and  seized  his 
hand  and  kissed  it.  Joyful  tears  came  easily 
now. 

She  had  misunderstood  him.  She  thought 
he  meant  they  could  not  go  back  to  Cornwall 
and  to  Douglas. 

He  looked  down  on  her  bent  head,  and 
knew  it  all  before  she  spoke  again;  but  he 
felt  powerless  to  explain,  to  draw  back  from 
what  he  saw  he  had  brought  upon  himself. 
He  knew  he  had  given  her  reason  to  misun- 
derstand him.  And  pity  now  crept  into  his 
heart.  It  is  a  dangerous  thing  for  love  when 
pity  creeps  into  its  abiding-place:  there  is 
never  room  for  both. 

250 


CLYDE   FITCH 

Madge  looked  up  at  him,  and  talked  to 
him  through  her  tears: 

"Yes,  yes,  you  will  take  me  away!  We 
cannot  go  back!  You  will  take  me  away, 
away  from  it  all!"  She  grew  suddenly  calm. 
"Don't  think  me  foolish,"  she  said.  "I  will 
show  you  I  can  be  sensible."  She  wanted  to 
show  him  that  she  could  be  everything, 
everything,  for  his  sake; 

He  listened  to  her  dumbly,  every  word 
she  said  sinking  into  his  heart  and  deaden- 
ing its  beats.  He  saw  how  beautiful  she 
was,  but  he  was  content  now  to  stand  by  and 
look  at  her. 

"Do  you  know  where  we  are?"  she  asked. 

"No,  but  we  are  near  some  village.  You 
can  see  it  there  on  our  right." 

"Yes,"  she  said.  "We  might  get  a  train 
there." 

"Madge,"  Farnsworth  said,  "shall  we  take 
the  train  for  Cornwall,  or  for  town?" 
251 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

"Cyril!"  she  exclaimed,  drawing  a  little 
away  from  him.  "What  do  you  mean?" 

"Ought  we  not  to  go  back?"  he  went  on, 
but  rather  hopelessly.  "We  will  explain  our 
accident,  and  when  Douglas  comes  you  can 
break  it  to  him  quietly  yourself.  Wouldn't 
that  be  kinder  to  him?" 

"No !  no !"  Madge  interrupted ;  "don't  ask 
me  to  do  that!  Remember  what  I  did  last 
night.  Think  how  those  people  would  talk! 
Oh,  I  could  not  go  back!  It  will  be  no 
harder  for  Douglas  to  hear  of  it  this  way." 

She  did  not  mention  Rita,  but  she  thought 
of  her.  So  did  Farnsworth.  She  stood  in 
front  of  him  by  the  sleigh.  A  little  sparrow 
loafing  on  a  fence  near  them  chirped  blithely. 
The  sun  shone  warm  and  pleasant.  She  put 
her  two  hands  upon  his  shoulders  and  made 
him  look  at  her. 

"Are  you  sorry?"  she  asked,  with  the  old 
strange  beauty  in  her  eyes. 

And  Farnsworth  tried  to  give  himself  up 
252 


CLYDE   FITCH 

to  their  intoxicating  witchery  again.  But 
he  spoke  soberly: 

"Sorry" — and  he  kissed  her  on  the  fore- 
head, and  then  upon  her  lips,  softly,  tenderly 
—"for  what?" 

And  Madge,  who  did  not  know  the  an- 
swer, was  satisfied. 

"Cyril,"  she  said  a  few  moments  later,  as 
they  were  walking  to  the  station,  having 
found  some  one  to  take  care  of  the  sleigh  and 
rugs — "Cyril,"  and  her  hand  trembled  in  his, 
and  the  fierce  light  came  into  her  eyes,  "I 
would  kill  the  woman  who  would  take  you 
from  me  now!" 

And  Farnsworth  smiled  at  her. 

Farnsworth  noticed  how  every  one  about 
the  station  and  train  looked  at  Madge  ad- 
miringly, and  it  was  with  a  feeling  of  pride, 
even  then,  that  he  said  to  himself,  "And  yet 
she  is  mine."  It  was  something  like  the 
feeling  one  might  have  if  one  were  an 
253 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

Eastern  prince  in  the  possession  of  a  beau- 
tiful slave.  Madge's  love  was  one  of  adora- 
tion. The  incense  of  worship  was  novel  and 
pleasing  to  him,  though  he  knew  the  pedestal 
he  stood  on  was  not  his  own. 


254 


CHAPTER  IX 

IN  the  train  Farnsworth  and  Madge  made 
some  plans.  It  was  then  a  little  past 
one  o'clock.  There  was  no  one  she  could  go 
to  quietly,  and  they  decided  to  be  married 
that  same  afternoon.  Madge  was  excited, 
but  overpoweringly  joyful.  The  car  seemed 
to  her  to  be  on  wings,  and  when  she  reached 
town  she  felt  as  if  she  were  in  a  city  built  in 
the  air.  Everything  seemed  different  to  her, 
and  countless  little  things  worthy  of  notice 
which  she  had  passed  all  her  life  before  with- 
out observing.  Once  or  twice  she  complained 
playfully  to  Farnsworth  that  he  was  too 
quiet  and  made  her  do  all  the  planning,  but 
when  he  said  it  was  because  she  did  it  so 
well,  she  was  pleasantly  silenced.  Farns- 
worth obeyed  her  like  a  child,  only  taking 
255 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

the  lead  when  the  urgency  called  for  a  man. 

Once  he  said — 

"Madge,  I  wish  I  were  rich,  for  your 
sake." 

But  she  only  shrugged  her  shoulders,  and 
said,  give  her  a  crust  every  time,  instead  of 
a  banquet,  if  it  was  his  crust. 

Before  they  reached  New  York  he  had 
asked  her  where  they  should  go  for  their 
honeymoon. 

"Cyril,"  she  answered,  "it  has  always  been 
my  dream  to  go  on  the  ocean  with  my  hus- 
band. I  want  to  go  on  a  little  voyage  with 
you.  Can't  we  go  south?" 

"Yes,"  he  said.  "There's  a  Bermuda 
steamer  sails  to-day.  I  had  thought  of  that 
myself." 

"Oh,  Cyril,"  murmured  Madge,  touching 
his  hand,  "how  much  in  sympathy  we  are!" 

"Yes,"  said  Farnsworth,  but  almost  with 
an  interrogation. 

Three  letters  were  written — one  to 
256 


CLYDE   FITCH 

Douglas  Weldon,  to  reach  him  before  he 
should  go  to  Cornwall,  one  to  Mrs.  Gallo- 
way, explaining,  or  trying  to  explain,  and 
one  to  her  mother.  She  did  not  write  to  Rita. 

It  was  when  she  was  writing  these  letters, 
in  the  Murray  Hill  Hotel,  that  Madge  com- 
menced to  realize  the  general  wretchedness 
she  was  creating. 

"Poor  Douglas!"  she  thought;  "I'm 
sorry."  But  when  she  wrote  to  her  mother 
she  did  not  dare  even  to  send  her  love  to 
Rita.  Something  very  like  remorse  came  to 
her  then,  but  she  made  an  effort  to  throw  it 
off.  "It  is  too  late  to  repent  now,"  she  said 
to  herself;  "and  I  don't  repent.  I  tried  to 
do  right  and  I  failed,  but  I  did  the  best  I 
could.  Besides,  he  loves  me:  so  he  doesn't 
love  Rita,  and  I  did  not  take  him  from  her, 
after  all." 

She  and  Farnsworth  were  both  under  the 
influence  of  the  same  desire  not  to  think,  but 
to  constantly  do.  And  that  night  the  Ber- 
257 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

muda  steamer  bore  out  of  New  York  harbor 
two  people  who  had  taken  their  passage  only 
at  the  last  moment — a  bride  and  groom,  it 
was  whispered  through  the  flowered  saloon. 

They  were  Madge  and  Cyril  Farnsworth ; 
and  when  the  gangplank  had  been  lifted,  and 
they  stood  on  the  deck  watching  the  shore  in 
the  fading  light,  there  were  tears  in  both 
their  eyes,  and  a  longing  for  rest  in  both 
their  hearts,  and  a  belief  that  it  would  soon 
come — in  one. 

"I  only  wish,"  said  Madge,  "that  I  had 
my  violin." 

"Madge  my  wife,"  said  Farnsworth,  "and 
already  wishing  for  something?"  And  he 
looked  past  her  over  the  water. 

"No,"  she  said;  "already  your  words  have 
made  me  forget  my  wish." 

He  was  thinking  of  his  novel,  which  lay 
scattered  on  his  desk.  It  had  not  been 
touched  since  that  night  of  "Siegfried." 
Would  it  ever  be  finished  now? 

25S 


CLYDE   FITCH 

As  the  boat  passed  out  of  sight  of  land 
that  evening,  Madge's  letters  were  being 
carried  to  their  several  destinations. 

Mrs.  Synnett  and  Rita  were  making  their 
toilets  for  a  dinner-party,  when  the  maid 
brought  a  letter  to  her  mistress.  She  laid 
it  down  on  her  dressing-table,  seeing  it  was 
from  Madge,  and  went  on  trying  the  effect 
of  different  ornaments  in  her  hair,  thinking 
there  could  be  no  very  important  news  from 
Cornwall.  When  she  had  thrown  aside  all 
her  own  jewelled  pins,  and  borrowed, 
through  the  maid,  one  of  Rita's  to  wear,  she 
took  up  the  envelope.  She  noticed  then  that 
the  postmark  was  New  York.  She  ex- 
perienced a  certain  uneasiness,  and  slowly 
tore  open  the  letter,  thinking. 

She  did  not  read  it  through.  When  she 
came  to  what  the  letter  was  sent  to  tell,  she 
stopped  and  screamed.  Then  she  remem- 
bered the  maid,  and  how  everything  must  be 
kept  quiet,  even  before  she  understood  what 
259 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

everything  was.  She  stood  by  the  dressing- 
table  a  moment,  breathing  with  difficulty. 
Every  hope  and  plan  of  the  last  four  years 
was  in  that  short  instant  broken  away  from 
her.  She  felt  as  if  she  had  lost  her  positive 
gravity  and  were  dropping  off  from  the 
world. 

She  tried  to  call  Rita;  but  she  could  not 
raise  her  voice,  and  she  crossed  the  landing 
into  her  daughter's  room.  Rita  stopped 
what  she  was  doing,  alarmed  at  her  mother's 
expression. 

Mrs.  Synnett  sank  down  in  a  chair  before 
she  spoke.  There  were  tears  in  her  eyes, 
but  she  almost  laughed;  it  was  so  strange — 
so  unnatural. 

"Rita,"  she  said,  "Madge  has  run  off." 

Rita  simply  stared  at  her. 

"Don't  look  at  me  so,"  said  her  mother; 
and  then  for  the  first  time  she  realized  what 
it  would  mean  to  this  daughter. 

"Oh,  my  child,"  she  cried,  "it's  Farns- 
260 


CLYDE   FITCH 

worth !"  And  Mrs.  Synnett  went  into  violent 
hysterics. 

Rita  spent  some  moments  calming  her 
mother.  She  did  not  feel  hysterical  herself; 
she  only  felt  very  cold,  and  seemed  to  do 
everything  as  if  she  were  a  machine.  She 
could  not  for  some  time  comprehend  what 
the  blow  was  that  had  fallen,  not  until  after 
she  had  read  Madge's  letter  to  herself  several 
times.  And  even  then,  somewhat  stunned 
by  the  shock  of  it,  she  did  not  fully  realize  all 
it  must  be  to  her. 

"I  don't  see  how  you  can  take  it  so  calm- 
ly," whimpered  Mrs.  Synnett,  almost  ex- 
hausted by  her  own  display  of  emotion,  and 
missing  the  comforting  company  that  a 
similar  performance  on  the  part  of  her 
daughter  would  have  been. 

Suddenly  she  started  up  with  a  new 
thought : 

"Who'll  tell  Douglas  Weldon?" 
261 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

"Probably  Madge  wrote  to  him  the  same 
time  she  did  to  us." 

"What's  the  matter  with  your  voice?" 
asked  Mrs.  Synnett.  "It  doesn't  sound 
natural." 

"Doesn't  it?"  said  Rita  wearily. 

The  maid  tapped  at  the  door. 

"The  carriage  is  here,  ma'am." 

"What?"  asked  Mrs.  Synnett. 

"Very  well,  Jane,"  said  Rita,  and  then, 
turning  to  her  mother,  "It's  the  carriage." 

They  had  both  forgotten  the  dinner  en- 
gagement. 

"What's  to  be  done?"  said  Mrs.  Synnett. 
"We  must  send  a  messenger.  I  know  it's 
dreadfully  late,  but  we  can't  go.  I  couldn't 
face  a  dinner-table.  Oh !  it  will  be  a  regular 
scandal!"  she  added,  with  a  habit  of  exag- 
gerating her  own  thoughts  with  her  words, 
and  apparently  about  to  go  voluntarily  into 
another  period  of  hysteria. 

"There  needn't  be  a  sensation,"  said  Rita, 
262 


CLYDE   FITCH 

knowing  that  was  what  her  mother  meant 
by  "scandal."  "Why  should  there  be? 
Everything  was  done  rightly.  Notice  of  the 
marriage  will  be  in  the  morning  papers,  so 
Madge  says  in  her  letter,  and  every  one  will 
learn  it  in  the  usual  way.  We  must  not  show 

to  the  world  that  we  are — that  we  are 

She  stopped,  not  knowing  what  to  say.  Mrs. 
Synnett  could  not  help  her. 

"Mamma,"  Rita  continued,  "we  must  not 
let  the  world  see  we  are  so  much  more  than 
surprised.  We  owe  that  much  to  Douglas 
Weldon.  He  does  not  want  the  world  to 
sympathize  with  him." 

She  did  not  speak  of  herself,  but  her 
mother  knew. 

"You  forget,"  she  said,  "that  in  Mrs. 
Galloway's  note  this  morning  she  said 
Madge  had  announced  her  engagement  to 
Weldon." 

"Yes,  I  forgot  that,"  said  Rita. 

"But  what  about  Mrs.  Delevan's  dinner? 
263 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

I  know  you  think  one  of  us  ought  to  go,  and 
I  suppose  I  ought  to;  but  oh,  Rita,  I  can't. 
Why,  I  talked  to  Madge  only  the  other  day 
about  vou  and  him,  and  she  said " 

V 

"Never  mind  what  she  said,"  said  Rita 
coldly.  "If  you  won't  go  I  must,  and  I  sup- 
pose I  might  as  well." 

Her  voice  and  manner  were  a  quiet  re- 
proach to  her  mother,  but  Mrs.  Synriett  did 
not  dissuade  her.  She  really  was  not  fit  to 
go  herself,  and  she  selfishly  reasoned  that 
it  might  do  Rita  good  by  taking  her  thoughts 
away  from  herself.  She  did  not  understand 
that  it  makes  but  little  difference  what  be- 
comes of  a  being's  thoughts  after  the  heart 
and  soul  are  gone.  And  Rita  Synnett  had 
that  night  seen  her  love  thrown  away  into 
utter  darkness,  and  her  faith  in  mankind 
undermined,  through  the  destruction  of  her 
faith  in  her  sister  and  the  man  she  loved. 
And  she  laid  the  stress  of  the  blame  on 
Madge. 

264 


CLYDE   FITCH 

Rita  put  on  her  wraps. 

"What  will  you  say?"  asked  Mrs.  Synnett. 

Rita  thought  a  moment  before  she  an- 
swered : 

"I  shall  tell  Mrs.  Delevan,  privately,  that 
you  were  unable  to  come  at  the  last  moment, 
tired  out  by  the  excitement  of  my  sister's 
marriage  to  Mr.  Farnsworth  this  afternoon, 
and  tell  her  it  is  not  to  be  made  public  until 
the  morning.  She  will  never  know  then  that 
we  were  not  present  at  the  ceremony.  Good- 
bye." 

"Won't  you  kiss  me,  dear?" 

Rita  went  to  her  mother  and  kissed  her. 
Her  face  was  like  a  dead  person's,  thought 
Mrs.  Synnett. 

When  Rita  had  gone,  she  took  off  her 
dinner-dress,  and  bathed  her  face,  and  then 
went  into  Madge's  room.  Rita's  example 
was  working  upon  her  mother's  mind.  She 
began  to  realize  what  an  idol  she  had  always 
made  of  Madge,  and  what  a  slave  of  her 
265 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

other  child.  She  thought  of  Rita's  strength 
of  character  as  brought  out  now,  and  she 
guiltily  felt  that  she  had  never  really  known 
her  daughters.  She  thought,  too,  of  what  she 
knew  now  was  true,  of  Rita's  love  for  Cyril 
Farnsworth. 

"I  wonder  if  they  were  engaged,"  she  said 
aloud  to  herself,  choosing  some  of  Madge's 
things  to  pack  up  and  send  to  her.  "I  should 
not  dare  to  ask  her.  Besides,  it  would  be  cruel 
to  her.  I  don't  believe  they  were.  Farns- 
worth is  not  so  bad  as  that.  I  don't  believe 
he  knew  his  own  mind." 

Perhaps,  she  thought,  she,  the  mother,  had 
been  some  to  blame.  She  had  tried  to  man- 
age matters  as  she  thought  best,  but  it  was 
evident  that  she  did  not  know.  It  was  very 
hard  on  Douglas  Weldon.  She  wished  he 
and  Rita  would  grow  fond  of  each  other ;  but 
she  knew  that  was  impossible  now — at  any 
rate,  for  Rita.  She  recognized  that  quality 
of  her  daughter's  character;  while  she  con- 
266 


CLYDE   FITCH 

ceived  the  probability  of  Weldon's  loving 
again,  some  girl  who  would  be  totally  differ- 
ent from  Madge. 

"At  any  rate,  I  will  make  no  more  plans 
for  any  one."  She  spoke  aloud  again. 
"Things  must  take  the  course  they  will. 
Perhaps  when  Madge  and  Farnsworth  come 
back,  and  are  happy,  it  will  all  come  out  right 
in  the  end.  Though  I  don't  see  how  it  can, 
for  Rita,"  she  added  after  a  moment. 

Rita  came  home  early.  Before  her  wraps 
were  taken  off  she  fainted.  But  the  maid 
and  her  mother  soon  brought  her  to,  and  she 
insisted  on  going  upstairs  to  her  room  to  un- 
dress. She  put  on  a  wrapper  and  threw  her- 
self on  her  couch. 

"Mamma,"  she  said,  "they  knew  it!" 

"What  do  you  mean?"  gasped  Mrs.  Syn- 
nett. 

"I  mean  what  I  say,"  repeated  Rita  in  a 
dull  sort  of  monotone,  all  the  expression,  all 
267 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

the  timbref  gone  from  her  voice.  "They  knev, 
it." 

"How?" 

"I  don't  know,  exactly,  but  I  believe  some 
one  who  had  friends  going  to  Bermuda  on 
the  same  steamer  as  Madge  and  Cyril  was 
down  there  at  the  dock  and  saw  them  go  on 
board ;  then  he  knew  some  one  at  one  of  the 
newspaper  offices,  and — oh,  I  don't  know, 
but  it  was  the  one  thing  that  they  all  wanted 
to  talk  about." 

"Well?" 

"I  said  it  was  true,  and  I  smiled,  and  tried 
to  look  gay,  as  if  I  had  been  to  a  wedding. 
They  asked  me  if  my  lilies  were  wedding 
flowers,  and  I  didn't  say  no.  And  I  don't 
know  what  else  was  said  or  happened.  I 
only  know  I  came  away  as  soon  as  I  could." 

"Do  you  think  they  suspect  all  the  par- 
ticulars?" 

"I   don't  know,"   sighed   Rita  pitifully, 
"and  I  don't  think  I  care." 
268 


CLYDE   FITCH 

"Come  here,"  said  Mrs.  Synnett,  stretch- 
ing out  her  hands.  And  Rita  went  to  them, 
and  the  two  women  sat  in  a  big  chair  to- 
gether, with  the  mother's  arms  about  the 
daughter. 

"Rita,"  she  whispered  once,  "I'm  going  to 
be  another  woman  from  to-night — a  less  self- 
ish woman,  a  truer  woman,  if  you  will  help 
me." 

But  Rita  only  answered — 

"Dear  mamma!  dear  mamma!" 

Some  time  after  midnight  a  special  de- 
livery letter  came  from  Mrs.  Galloway. 

"I've  explained  it  all  right  to  the  people 
here,"  she  said,  "and  you  can  count  upon  me 
to  see  that  there  is  no  foolish  gossip  in  the 
society  papers." 

It  was  very  kindly  meant,  and  they  were 
grateful,  but  it  did  not  touch  the  two  women 
then.  They  were  past  caring  for  the  world's 
opinion,  learning  a  deeper  lesson  which  was 
set  before  them. 

269 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

Mrs.  Synnett  felt  that  Rita  would  like  to 
be  alone,  so  presently  she  left  her. 

Rita  went  to  the  window,  and  sat  down 
among  the  cushions  of  the  seat  there,  resting 
her  elbows  on  the  sill,  and  her  little  cold 
white  chin  in  her  little  cold  white  hands.  It 
was  where  she  was  sitting  when  Madge  came 
in  and  found  her  three  nights  ago.  She  sat 
for  a  long  time  in  a  sort  of  stupor,  looking 
up  at  the  sky. 

"I  don't  understand  this  living  on  and  on," 
she  said,  "and  I  know  one  thing:  I  will  never 
again  be  afraid  to  die.  Didn't  he  love  me  at 
all  ?  Oh,  I  felt  so  sure  he  did !  Yet  he  never 
said  so ;  I'm  not  sure  now  he  even  hinted  it ; 
and  perhaps  it  is  my  own  fault  that  I  am 
suffering  now.  Is  it?  Isn't  it?  What  dif- 
ference does  it  make?" 

She  looked  at  the  stars  again  for  a  long 
time,  without  thinking  of  anything. 

"There  isn't  a  single  person  in  this  whole 
big  world,"  she  thought,  "that  can  comfort 
270 


CLYDE   FITCH 

me.  There  is  no  one  I  can  go  to.  If  only  I 
was  more  of  a  Christian,  I  believe  I  could  go 
to  God." 

Again  her  thoughts  were  formless.  She 
found  herself  mechanically  counting  the 
twinkling  lights  in  the  winter  sky.  "I  must 
do  something,"  she  thought  now.  "I  must 
have  some  sort  of  duty  in  the  world.  No  one 
has  ever  told  me,  but  there  must  be  some- 
thing, somewhere,  for  me  to  do.  First  I 
will  go  away  for  a  little  while,  and  when  I 
come  back  I  will  write  hard.  Perhaps  I  will 
write  my  novel.  At  the  least  I  can  try." 

She  sat  with  her  arms  dropped  and  her 
face  buried  in  them  a  long  time. 

"Only,"  she  sobbed,  "only  I  am  so  alone!" 

She  lifted  her  head.  The  dawn  of  another 
day  was  creeping  over  the  sky;  it  seemed  to 
reach  a  little  of  its  light  into  Rita  Synnett's 
heart.  It  was  like  the  lifting  of  a  great 
weight  from  the  breast  on  to  the  shoulders, 
where  one  can  carry  it,  as  Rita  sank  down 
271 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

upon  her  knees,  moving  her  lips,  and  crossed 
her  hands  in  front  of  her. 

Another  pair  of  aching  eyes  saw  the  dawn 
coming  over  the  great  city — a  man  who  had 
walked  since  dark  up  and  down  the  length 
of  his  room,  and  would  walk  for  hours  more, 
and  who  would  know  no  rest  for  many  days, 
but  who  knew  how  to  carry  burdens  so  that 
in  the  end  they  would  drop  of  themselves. 


272 


CHAPTER  X 

IT  was  the  steamer's  second  day  out.  The 
first  day  had  been  a  good  omen  indeed 
for  perfect  and  beautiful  happiness;  and 
Madge  and  Cyril  had  spent  it  in  the  sunshine 
on  the  deck,  enjoying  together  that  ineffably 
sweet  inertia  which  some  people  feel  the  first 
day  on  the  ocean. 

There  had  been  one  of  those  beautiful  sun- 
sets only  seen  at  sea,  where  the  sky  was  a 
faded  emerald  and  the  sun  a  disk  of  burning 
coppery  brass  which  would  defy  even  a 
Teniers  to  imitate.  The  swinging  motion  of 
the  gulls,  floating  back  and  forward  like 
foam  on  the  waves  of  the  air,  had  the  same 
effect  on  the  senses  as  the  crooning  melodies 
of  a  negro  nurse.  All  the  day  and  all  the 
273 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

evening  Madge  and  Cyril  had  lain  back  in 
the  chairs  and  dreamed  dreams. 

Nothing  yet  seemed  actual  to  them. 
Madge  said  she  knew  in  a  few  moments  they 
would  be  landed  at  Cornwall-on-the-Hud- 
son,  or  else  that  she  would  wake  up.  And 
yet  the  awakening  came  sooner  than  even  she 
expected;  but  it  was  of  another,  of  a  fatal 
kind;  and  even  that  first  night  the  reality 
of  life  and  the  "natural  course"  of  things 
began  to  make  themselves  felt. 

Madge  was  experiencing  in  a  vague  way 
something  very  like  disappointment  in  Cyril 
Farnsworth.  Not  that  there  was  anything 
lacking  in  his  treatment  of  her,  but  that  she 
missed  perhaps  a  superfluous  something 
which  she  had  expected.  Whatever  her  feel- 
ing was,  it  was  the  reason  in  her  of  a  strange 
thought  for  a  woman  the  first  quarter  of 
whose  honeymoon  had  not  yet  lost  its  silver 
tips — the  fear  that  Cyril  would  not  always 

love  her. 

274 


CLYDE    FITCH 

This  fear  was,  too,  undoubtedly,  a  certain 
form  of  jealousy  in  a  nature  too  prone  to 
it  before  there  was  any  cause.  A  night's 
brooding  over  Cyril's  too  reasonable  and 
quiet  devotion  made  her  morbidly,  unrea- 
sonably uneasy.  It  even  occurred  to  her  that 
perhaps  she  had  let  him  be  too  sure  of  her 
affection,  as  she  had  felt  too  sure  of  Wei- 
don's.  She  quieted  her  conscience  about  Rita 
by  saying  if  Farnsworth  chose  to  love  and 
marry  her  she  was  not  to  blame.  She  told 
herself  that  if  he  had  loved  and  married  Rita 
instead,  she  would  have  been  silent.  Surely, 
as  it  was,  Rita  could  not  blame  her  for  the 
denouement  of  affairs.  So  she  stupefied  her 
conscience,  and  repeated  the  moral  drugging 
system  at  necessary  intervals.  But  the  very 
reasoning  which  was  a  narcotic  to  her  con- 
science kept  a  little  hidden  jealousy  of  her 
sister  from  anything  but  the  slightest  doze, 
which  the  veriest  jar  would  destroy.  When- 
ever she  spoke  of  Rita,  Farnsworth  listened, 
275 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

but  he  would  not  talk  of  her  himself.  At 
least  he  did  not.  Why  not?  He  never  of 
his  own  accord  mentioned  her  name  to  her — 
Madge.  And  he  had  a  way  of  changing  the 
conversation,  or  she  thought  he  had. 

She  wanted  him  to  tell  her  more  about 
himself.  She  would  have  been  better  pleased 
if,  instead  of  being  silent  so  much,  he  had  told 
of  all  his  life  so  far.  There  must  be  much 
to  tell  in  a  man's  life  between  twenty-one  and 
twenty-eight.  She  was  jealous  of  this  past 
from  which  she  was  shut  out.  Besides,  she 
remembered,  he  and  Rita  had  used  to  talk  of 
the  past  often  together.  It  did  not  make 
any  difference  to  her  that  they  had  talked  of 
childhood.  She  never  had  time  for  reason 
and  excuse.  She  could  forgive  and  forget 
even  a  sin,  but  she  never  excused. 

There  was  a  former  acquaintance  of  Cyril's 

on  board,  a  handsome  woman,  a  Mrs.  Some- 

thing-or-other,  who  was  traveling  with  a 

maid,  and  who  treated  Farnsworth,  Madge 

276 


CLYDE   FITCH 

thought,  too  familiarly,  as  if  there  had  been 
something  more  than  an  ordinary  friendship 
between  them  at  one  time.  When  she  asked 
him  about  her,  he  said  he  had  met  her  travel- 
ing abroad  somewhere.  She  thought  this 
was  too  indefinite. 

The  second  morning  she  had  gone  down 
into  the  cabin  for  barely  half  an  hour,  and 
when  she  came  back  Cyril  and  this  woman 
were  walking  the  deck  together.  She  had 
to  stand  alone  several  minutes  before  Cyril 
saw  her.  All  this  she  foolishly  allowed  to 
jar  upon  her. 

Farnsworth  felt  a  false  note  was  some- 
where breaking  in  upon  their  harmony.  But 
he  did  not  know  where  or  how,  and  for  the 
first  time,  while  conscious  of  a  change  of 
mood  in  Madge,  he  could  not  sympathize 
with  it. 

He  did  not  like  being  told  he  was  bored 
because  he  sat  an  hour  in  her  company  with- 
out talking.  He  had  not  been  told  so  before 
277 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

in  the  many  silences  that  had  always  been 
between  them.  He  could  appreciate  no  dif- 
ference now.  He  did  not  know  that  the  very 
doubt  of  his  own  love  for  Madge  which  he 
himself  was  now  trying  to  turn  his  back 
upon,  having  been  too  weak  to  grapple  with 
it,  Madge  had  already  stumbled  on. 

And  Madge  did  not  know  that  her  own 
unwhispered  fears  of  her  power  to  hold  his 
affections  were  born  of  an  instinctive  intui- 
tion that  she  did  not  altogether  possess  them 
now. 

The  afternoon  came  on,  of  the  second  day 
out.  They  were  sitting  quite  alone,  and  hid- 
den from  the  rest  of  the  passengers,  behind 
the  lifeboat.  All  the  morning  she  had  been 
expecting  some  caress.  Her  hand  often 
rested  on  the  arm  of  his  chair,  on  his  sleeve, 
on  his  rug,  constantly  in  reach  of  his,  and 
yet  only  once  had  he  touched  it,  and  then  it 
was  to  lift  it  rather  playfully  from  his  shoul- 
278 


CLYDE   FITCH 

der  with  some  remark  apropos  of  the  people 
about  them. 

With  the  partial  screen  of  the  lifeboat,  in 
the  excess  of  her  love  and  joy  Madge  felt 
oblivious  of  every  one.  She  had  been  long- 
ing for  a  kiss  for  hours.  Love's  sweets  are 
easily  stolen,  but  she  waited  in  vain  to  be 
robbed. 

Finally  she  yawned — not  a  yeal  yawn,  but 
a  false  one — and  said  it  was  stupid  on  deck, 
and  she  was  going  down  to  the  cabin  for  a 
while.  He  allowed  her  to  leave  him,  and  did 
not  follow  her.  Really  he  was  half  inclined 
to.  He  guessed  that  she  expected  him  to. 
But  he  stayed  behind  and  went  on  thinking. 

She  was  not  gone  long,  and  when  she  came 
back  t,he  thought  he  had  been  talking  to  the 
handsome  blonde  woman  again,  having 
passed  her  in  the  passageway. 

She  was  silent  and  somewhat  angry  as  she 
joined  him,  with  the  hard  look  in  her  face 
279 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

which  Cyril  pretended  not  to  notice  and  wel- 
comed her  back  with  a  smile. 

She  brushed  against  him  as  she  sat  down, 
but  he  appeared  to  be  unconscious  of  the  con- 
tact. Really  it  had  given  him  a  sensation, 
but  not  a  pleasant  one.  Formerly  her  touch 
had  thrilled  him  with  delight,  had  drawn  him 
to  her ;  now  it  seemed  to  repel  him.  It  was  as 
if  he  had  smoothed  a  piece  of  velvet  "the 
wrong  way."  He  saw  the  hard  expression 
of  her  face,  and  this  time  it  cast  a  damning 
shadow  over  the  beauty  of  it,  and  an  im- 
passive nonchalance  seemed  to  Madge  to  rise 
up  from  him  and  strike  her  in  the  face. 

At  that  moment  she  felt  she  would  like 
to  cut  him  with  a  sharp  knife,  to  make  him 
feel  intense  pain  just  for  a  second.  Invol- 
untarily her  thumb  and  taper  forefinger 
closed,  as  if  a  bit  of  his  arm  were  between 
them;  but  she  would  not  have  done  so  child- 
ish a  thing  as  pinch,  and  in  an  instant  this 
feeling  passed  away.  Only  it  left  her  bitter, 
280 


CLYDE   FITCH 

and  she  made  some  slighting  remark  about 
the  woman  she  had  passed  on  her  way  to  the 
deck.  It  was  a  witty  but  not  a  nice  speech, 
and  Farnsworth  but  half  laughed.  This  half 
acknowledgment  of  its  humor  shamed  her, 
and  made  her  wish  to  justify  herself.  She 
questioned  him  about  her.  He  refused  to 
answer,  and  told  her  she  was  absurd.  But 
he  did  not  lose  his  temper;  and  Madge 
thought  he  was  not  serious  enough. 

When  she  questioned,  he  bantered.  His 
coolness  exasperated  her  beyond  measure. 
She  thought  him  wilfully  disagreeable  and 
cold,  and  she  was  determined  to  rouse  him 
at  any  cost.  She  knew  he  could  be  roused, 
and  she  believed  in  her  power  to  calm  him. 
Moreover,  she  had  worked  herself  into  an 
angry  mood,  and  she  felt  the  need  of  some 
climax,  some  turning-point  for  it.  She  was 
not  capable  of  letting  it  quietly  subside  of 
itself. 

Besides  all  this,  she  spoke  without  think- 
281 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

ing.     Madge  always  counted  her  ten  after 
she  spoke,  instead  of  before. 

She  told  him  she  believed  he  had  flirted 
with  this  woman,  as  he  had  flirted  with  Rita, 
only  this  woman  was  more  worldly. 

"I  did  not  flirt  with  your  sister,"  said 
Farnsworth  slowly,  looking  Madge  straight 
in  the  eyes  with  an  expression  almost  as  hard 
.as  her  own. 

She  did  not  like  his  manner.  She  laughed 
disagreeably. 

"Cyril,"  she  said,  "don't  think  you  can  de- 
ceive me  so  easily." 

"Your  sister" — he  spoke  with  short  stops 
between  the  words — "is  the  last  woman  in 
this  world  I  would  flirt  with." 

It  was  casting  oil  on  the  flames  of  Madge's 
jealousy.  Her  eyes  blazed  at  him,  her  body 
shook. 

"You  needn't  lie  to  me,"  she  said.    "You 
did  flirt  with  her,  or  Rita  would  never  have 
confessed  she  loved  you." 
282 


CLYDE   FITCH 

Cyril  had  not  taken  his  eyes  off  her.  Still 
staring,  he  seized  her  hand  and  held  her  by 
the  wrist  in  a  grip  that  bruised. 

"Did  she?"  he  asked  between  his  teeth. 

She  wanted  to  say  no,  but  she  thought  the 
truth  would  humble  him,  and  she  had  been 
humbled  enough. 

"Yes,"  she  answered. 

He  dropped  her  hand  and  turned  away, 
but  she  saw  in  his  face  that  she  had  gone  too 
far. 

"Cyril!"  she  cried,  ready  to  relent;  but  it 
was  too  late.  For  a  moment  she  cowered 
before  her  husband,  but  only  for  a  moment. 
She  closed  her  eyes  with  her  hand,  for  she 
did  not  seem  to  see  plainly,  and  then  opened 
them  again. 

Farnsworth  could  not  speak — he  dared 
not  trust  himself.  He  had  just  sufficient 
strength  at  that  instant  to  keep  from  curs- 
ing her.  He  stood  as  she  rose  from  her  chair. 

She  drew  herself  up  and  passed  him  with 
283 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

a  fierce  glance,  and  went  along  to  the 
passageway.  In  those  few  moments  she  both 
hated  and  loved  him  passionately.  If  she 
could  have  killed  him,  she  would  have  died 
too,  clinging  to  his  lips. 

She  noticed  now  for  the  first  time  that  the 
vessel  was  rolling  heavily,  and  that  huge 
clouds  were  hurrying  over  a  dead-black  sky. 
At  the  doorway  she  turned  and  looked  back. 

"No,"  she  whispered,  and  went  on.  "I 
thought  he  was  going  to  strike  me.  I  almost 
wish  he  had.  It  would  have  made  a  different 
ending;  and  now,  now,  oh,  I  do  not  know  if 
I'm  saved  or  lost." 

Inside,  she  had  to  cling  to  the  railings  to 
support  herself,  and  even  then  she  was 
thrown  from  side  to  side  along  the  whole 
length  of  the  passage,  feeling  the  knocks  no 
more  than  she  did  the  red  marks  of  Cyril's 
fingers  on  her  wrist,  till  she  reached  her  own 
stateroom. 

The  deck  was  a  scene  of  confusion.  Sail- 
284 


CLYDE   FITCH 

ors  were  hurrying  to  and  fro,  and  the  officers 
were  all  at  their  posts.  An  ugly  storm  was 
expected.  Every  one  was  ordered  below,  and 
the  sailors  commanded  to  clear  the  decks. 

But  Farnsworth,  who  had  walked  away 
when  Madge  left  him,  was  quite  hidden  be- 
tween some  rigging  and  the  end  of  a  lifeboat, 
and  escaped  notice. 

He  was  conscious  of  the  storm  only  in  a 
secondary  way,  in  that  he  felt  the  sympathy 
of  nature  with  his  own  racked  and  tortured 
being.  His  arms  were  lifted  above  his  head, 
and  he  held  by  his  hands  to  the  rigging, 
while  his  body  was  plunged  forward  and 
back  with  the  motion  of  the  ship.  He  was 
wet,  without  knowing  it,  by  the  waves  which 
now  and  then  broke  over  the  vessel's  side. 
He  threw  off  his  hat  to  let  the  wind  blow  on 
his  forehead,  where  there  seemed  to  be  an 
ever-tightening  band  of  steel.  His  hair  grew 
wild  in  the  wind,  and  his  eyes  were  big  and 
seemed  to  be  straining  to  leap  their  sockets, 
285 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

and  yet  he  was  beautiful.  He  was  in  that 
mental  agony  when  the  heart  and  soul  are 
crucified,  but  the  body  still  lives  even  after 
the  bones  of  one's  hopes  are  broken. 

The  lightning  seemed  to  burn  a  vivid  track 
through  the  past  few  weeks  of  his  life,  and 
all  the  weakness  of  his  character  looked  hide- 
ous in  the  white  glare. 

As  was  his  nature,  when  condemnation 
could  do  no  good,  he  over-condemned  him- 
self. 

"Almighty  God,"  he  said,  "I've  played 
with  life  as  if  it  were  a  game,  and  men  and 
women  toys.  I've  been  little  else  but  a 
painted  wooden  image  in  the  ark." 

He  thought  of  Rita,  and  the  tears  poured 
out  of  his  eyes,  streaking  the  salt  of  the  waves 
that  had  dried  on  his  cheek.  He  could  not 
avoid  thinking  again  of  what  his  life  with 
her  might  have  been,  with  a  shudder  of  great 
self-abasement,  nor  avoid  the  comparison 
of  what  his  life  now  promised  to  be.  No 
286 


CLYDE   FITCH 

calm,  no  peace,  no  rest,  but  only  the  un- 
ceasing rising  and  falling,  backward  and 
forward,  of  the  sea  seemed  shut  in  by  his 
horizon.  A  life  made  up  of  moods.  He 
saw  the  mockery  of  his  passion  for  Madge, 
and  at  length,  utterly  alone  with  his  Maker, 
as  a  human  being  only  can  be  in  a  mighty 
storm,  he  realized  that  his  worship  of  Rita, 
which  he  had  failed  to  understand,  had  been 
the  ritual  of  that  pure  love  which  he  had 
chosen  for  his  own  ideal. 

He  knew  he  was  not  fit  to  kiss  the  tips  of 
her  fingers,  yet  he  knew  he  would  rather, 
once,  than  clasp  the  other,  his  wife,  in  his 
arms  for  a  lifetime. 

And  she  had  loved  him.  A  myriad  memo- 
ries crowded  upon  him  in  proof  of  what  her 
sister  had  declared.  He  experienced  a  sud- 
den joy,  a  mad  gladness  for  a  moment,  that 
made  him  shout.  It  was  like  a  gleam  of 
reason  to  an  insane  mind,  and  then  it  went 
out  and  left  him  in  more  utter  darkness  than 
287 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

before.  He  beat  his  bare  forehead  with  his 
hard-clenched  fist  till  the  blood  swelled  and 
made  a  purplish  bruise  on  his  temple. 

"I  have  brought  her  only  sorrow,"  he  cried 
aloud.  "Blessed  happiness  lay  in  my  path, 
arid  I  trod  it  under  my  foot.  My  God,  I 
have  trodden  her  under  my  foot!  She  for 
whom  I  would  gladly  give  these  hands,  these 
eyes,  this  life,  knows  only  anguish  now 
through  me!"  His  voice  was  drowned  in  the 
fury  of  the  storm. 

He  had  forgotten  Madge,  but  again  he 
thought  of  her,  and  again  he  cried  out : 

"I  will  try,  I  will  try  to  make  her  happy 
if  I  can."  But  still  he  lacked  faith,  taught 
by  himself  to  mistrust  himself.  He  did  not 
believe  he  would  accomplish  that,  or  any- 
thing. He  felt  he  had  come  to  that  awful 
present  in  one's  life  when  one  cannot  look 
forward  and  one  must  not  look  back.  He 
felt  that  his  life,  like  his  book,  would  be  un- 
finished forever. 

288 


CLYDE   FITCH 

"Rita!"  and  he  smiled  at  the  sound  of  her 
name.  He  repeated  it  again  and  again. 

"Forgive  me!  forgive!"  He  was  silent  a 
moment,  and  lifted  his  head  and  cried,  "God 
forgive  me,  help  me,  and " 

His  sentence  was  left  unended.  The  sud- 
den light  that  shut  his  eyes  silenced  his  lips. 
For  one  instant  Cyril  Farnsworth  lay  prone 
and  still  beside  the  heavy  mast  that  had  fallen 
past  him  down  upon  the  deck.  Over  on  one 
side  rolled  the  ship  and  sank  deep  down  into 
the  sea,  as  if  to  show  the  sight  to  hell.  And 
over  her  rushed  the  loud  dark  waters,  as  if 
to  hide  the  sight  from  heaven.  Then  the 
mighty  wave  receding  took  him  for  her 
own,  and,  tumbling  back  from  whence  she 
came,  swept  the  earthly  temple  of  Cyril 
Farnsworth  into  the  pit  of  the  bellowing  sea. 

But  one  soul  on  board  had  seen — a  woman 

who  had  hunted  for  this  man  in  vain  below 

and  now  had  come  to  look  for  him  above. 

With  her  own  fingers  she  had  managed  to 

289 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

draw  aside  the  heavy  bolt  and  open  the  door 
that  led  out,  and  just  as  she  stealthily  crept 
through,  fearful  lest  she  should  be  watched 
and  forbidden,  the  flash  came  that  blinded 
her  husband's  eyes  and  opened  hers  too  wide. 

She  screamed;  but  what  is  a  woman's  cry 
when  the  sea  and  sky  are  raging?  She  fell 
forward  as  the  ship  rolled,  and  struck  her 
head  against  the  end  of  a  lifeboat.  And  when 
she  had  struggled  up  to  her  feet  again,  he 
was  gone. 

Gone!  taken  from  her  before  her  aching, 
hungry  eyes,  away  from  her  yearning,  out- 
stretched arms.  She  laughed  aloud,  a 
strange,  cruel  sound,  and  staggered  on.  Her 
hair  caught  in  a  broken  spar,  but  she  tore  it 
free  with  her  hands,  feeling  no  pain,  and 
still  dragged  herself  on  toward  the  place 
where  he  had  stood.  Her  forehead  was  hot, 
she  did  not  know ;  the  blood  on  her  brow  was 
warm,  but  the  heat  in  her  brain  burned 
fiercer. 

290 


CLYDE   FITCH 

"Wait!"  she  shrieked,  and  her  voice  was 
shrill  and  strange.  The  wave  was  bearing 
him  on.  Would  the  next  wave  never  come? 
Every  time  she  took  a  step  forward  it  seemed 
to  her  the  motion  of  the  vessel  threw  her  two 
back. 

"Cyril!"  she  cried,  "Cyril!"  and  her  voice 
grew  hoarse  and  guttural.  "Cyril,  wait!" 
Would  the  next  wave  never  come  ?  Who  was 
it  dragging  her  love  away  from  her?  Who 
was  it  that  held  back  the  coming  wave  so 
long  ?  She  clutched  her  throat  and  beat  upon 
her  breast,  when  her  voice  failed  her. 

Now  she  could  see  the  huge  mountain  of 
water  bearing  down  upon  the  vessel.  High 
above  her  head  it  towered,  but  it  was  slow — 
so  slow!  He  would  be  so  far  ahead  of  her. 
She  could  wait  no  longer.  She  fell  to  the  side 
of  the  ship  and  flung  up  her  arms  to  the 
water,  which  seemed  to  stretch  over  her  head 
like  night. 

Her  voice  came: 

291 


A  WAVE  OF  LIFE 

"Take  me!  take  me  to  Cyril!" 

The  wave  curled,  toppled,  fell,  broke,  with 
the  roar  and  destruction  of  a  bolt  from  Vul- 
can, and  rushed  back  with  its  burden,  who 
did  not  see  now  the  great  gulf  between  this 
wave  and  the  one  that  went  before,  and  could 
not  know  now  that  the  two  waves  would  go 
on  forever  side  by  side,  but  separate  always, 
with  the  hollow  space  between. 

Life,  with  its  years  of  calm  and  its  years  of 
storm,  must  have  been  the  same  for  these 
two,  the  same ;  but  they  cannot  live  it  now. 

The  great  ship  plunged  on.  Happy  hearts 
there  were  on  board  beating  thicker  as  they 
thought  of  hearts  on  shore,  and  fond  eyes 
waiting  for  dear  ones  to  look  into  them  at 
the  journey's  end — eyes  that  did  not  see  that 
awful  beauty  of  a  woman's  arm  that  glis- 
tened in  the  lightning's  glare  whiter  than 
the  foam  that  flecked  it. 


292 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


NO  PHUNE  RENEWAL 


NflW   MM? 


J> 


3  1158012182944 


A    000035620    4 


